THE 



JUYENILE SPEAKER; 



COMPRISING 



ELEMENTARY RULES 



EXERCISES IN DECLAMATION, 



WITH 

A SELECTION OF PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 

y 

BY FRANCIS T. RUSSELL, 

INSTRUCTOR IN ELOCUTION, AT PRINCETON AND RUTGERS COLLEGES, ETC. 

^ i-^ 

NEW YORK: 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
82 CLIFF STREET. 

7 1847. 

/ 



™#' 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand 
eight hundred and forty -seven, by 

Harper & Brothers, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District 
of New York. 



/ 



r?4 



si 




PREFACE. 



The author of the following manual, when engaged, as 
he occasionally is, in teaching classes in schools, has felt, in 
common with others, the want of a book of regular in- 
struction in declamation, adapted to juvenile speakers.* 
For, although there are, already, before the public, several 
collections of pieces, designed for young classes, there are 
none which furnish a systematic course of rules and direc- 
tions, to guide the learner in the management of the voice 
and the practice of gesture. 

The plan of the following work, is designed to present, 
1st, the most important elements of elocution, as they 
apply to the practice of boys in declamation ; 2d, to fa- 
cilitate the reduction of every principle to immediate 
practice, by introducing one or more appropriate exam- 
ples designed as exercises ; 3d, to present the primary 
rules of feeling and of taste, which apply to the practice 
of gesture, as comprehending attitude and action; 4th, to 
furnish young speakers with a supply of pieces ', from which 
to select matter for a more extended application of the 
rules of elocution, or for their customary school exercises 
in speaking. 

The compiler of the present volume, would not under- 
rate any of the works already in use, whether as treatises 
on elocution, or selections of pieces for declamation. His 

* Students at academies and colleges are sufficiently provided with elo- 
cutionary aids, in the volume entitled, "The American Elocutionist," and 
in that on " Orthophony," — prepared by Mr. William Russefl, or in simi- 
lar volumes by other writers. The intention of the author of the present 
work, is to furnish a corresponding text-book on declamation, for younger 
speakers. 



VI PREFACE. 

wish is merely to secure the convenience of a work em- 
bodying his own system of instruction .* He will feel 
gratified, if, at the same time, he may thus facilitate the 
labors of other teachers who are desirous of receiving the 
aid of a text-book containing rules and principles along 
with examples. The pupil's progress may, in this way, 
be rendered systematic and definite ; and the instruction 
which he receives, may be rendered more effectual, by 
assuming a permanent form, for reference and practice. 
A work of this description was indispensable to the author, 
as a class-book for his own pupils, and he has endeavored 
to make it serviceable to all teachers who, either regular- 
ly or occasionally, give instruction in declamation. 

The American School Reader and Speaker, and the 
Introduction to the same, by Messrs. John Goldsbury and 
William Russell, are, — so far as the author can judge, — 
the best books of their kind, for the general purposes of 
school instruction in elocution, — combining rules for read- 
ing and pieces for practice. The present volume differs 
from these in two respects : it furnishes rules and exam- 
ples adapted exclusively to the exercise of speaking, and 
extended to the departments of attitude and gesture. The 
pieces, also, which the book contains, are intended, ex- 
clusively, for practice in recitation or declamation. The 
author does not wish that this work should supersede any 
of a more general character, as regards the rules of elo- 
cution, or the selection of pieces. His sole intention is 
to provide a book which boys will find useful, as a guide 

* The reference above is not made as claiming originality of method. 
The author would acknowledge himself indebted, for whatever merit his 
system possesses, to the elaborate theory of Dr. Rush, in his Philosophy 
of the Human Voice, — to the personal instructions, also, of Mr. James E. 
Murdoch, while that gentleman was engaged in the business of training 
the vocal organs, for the practice of public speaking, and to the superin- 
tendence and directions of the compiler's father, Mr. William Russell, 
whose modes of instruction are developed in his various works on the 
subject of elocution. 



PREFACE. Vll 

in their usual weekly or monthly school exercises in 
speaking. 

The directions for the cultivation of the voice, which are 
contained in the following pages, will, it is hoped, be 
found of essential service to the pupil. By a few weeks' 
diligent practice on the exercises, he will be enabled to 
secure a healthy expansion of the chest, a firm, round, and 
full tone of voice, and a distinct articulation, all which are 
indispensable to effective elocution. 

A considerable space, in the following pages, has been 
assigned to a plain statement of the main principles of 
gesture, as they apply to juvenile exercises in declamation 
and recitation. This much-neglected branch of practical 
oratory, deserves particular attention during the period 
of education. It is one for which boys possess a peculiar 
aptitude, and one, also, in which the early formation of 
correct habit, is of unspeakable value, to all whose duties, 
in subsequent life, render impressive speaking an im- 
portant attainment. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

LESSON I. Page 

Preparatory Exercises . . 1 

LESSON II.— Orthoepy. 
Articulation 2 

LESSON ni.— Orthoepy. 
Enunciation . 5 

LESSON IV.— Orthoepy. 
Pronunciation 6 

LESSON V.— Quality of the Voice. 

" Pure Head Tone" 8 

Exercises 8 

LESSON VI. 
Practice of Pure Head Tone on the Elements 10 

LESSON VII. 

" Orotund," or Round Tone 11 

Exercises 11 

LESSON VIII. 
Practice of Round Tone on the Elements 13 

LESSON IX. 

Force of Voice . . .13 

Exercises 13 

LESSON X. 
Practice of Force on the Elements 15 

LESSON XI. 

" Stress" 15 

Exercises . . .16 

LESSON XII. 
Practice of Stress on the Elements 19 

LESSON XIII. 

Pitch 20 

Exercises 20 

LESSON XIV. 

"Movement" .21 

Exercises - 22 

LESSON XV. 

"Expression" .25 

Exercises 26 

LESSON XVI. 
Review of Expression 29 



X CONTENTS. 

LESSON XVII. Page 

Inflection, or Slides 29 

Exercises 32 

LESSON XVIII. 

Emphasis o„ 

Exercises 34 

LESSON XIX. 

Pauses 36 

Exercises 37 



PRINCIPLES OF GESTURE. 

LESSON I.— Attitude . . . .38 

Rules and Examples 39-44 

Common Faults . 44 

LESSON II.— Action. 

Common Errors 47 

General Rules 49 

Analysis of Gesture . . . 52 

Key to the Analysis 53 

Examples 54 

Application of Principles 59 



PART II. 






PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 




xercise I. Ambition, false and true .... 


Anonymous. 


63 


II. Nature's Gentleman .... 


Eliza Cook. 


63 


III. Casabianca 


Mrs. Hemans. 


64 


IV. The Savoyard's Return .... 


H. K. White. 


66 


V. The Removal 


Anonymous. 


67 


VI. Spring: 

VII. The Little Philosopher (Dialogue) . 


Anonymous. 


68 


Aikin. 


69 


VIII. The Pioneer 


Brainard. 


71 


IX. Address to General Lafayette 


Everett. 


72 


X. The Trooper's Dirge .... 


U.S.Lit.Gaz. 


72 


XL The Battle of Blenheim. 


Southey. 


73 


XII. Vision of Belshazzar .... 


Byron. 


75 


XIII. Economy 


Walcot. 


76 


XIV. Morning Thoughts 


Mary Howitt. 


77 


XV. The Nightingale 


Mrs. Hemans. 


78 


XVI. Eulogium on William Penn . 


Duponceau. 


79 


XVII. Landing of the Pilgrims 


Mrs. Hemans. 


80 


XVIII. The Burial of Arnold .... 


Willis. 


82 


XIX. The Wind in a Frolic .... 


Win. Howitt. 


83 


XX. Loss of the Royal George 


Coivper. 


84 


XXI. General Putnam 


Flint. 


85 


XXII. The Falls of Lodore .... 


Southey. 


86 


XXIII. Arnold Winkelried .... 


Montgomery. 


88 


XXIV. App e al for the survivors of the Revolution 


Everett. 


89 


XXV. Hodge and the Vicar . 


Anonymous. 


90 


XXVI. The Philosopher's Scales 


Jane Taylor. 


91 


XXVII. Death of the Old Year .... 


Tennyson. 


93 


XXVIII. Speech of Logan 


Ashe. 


95 


XXIX. Dirge for the Beautiful 


Anonymous. 


95 


XXX. Selkirk in his Solitude .... 


Cowper. 


96 



CONTENTS. 



XI 



Exercise Page 

XXXT. Christmas Eve C. Moore. 98 

XXXII. The Ship-Builders . . . . J.G. Whittier. 99 

XXXIII. The Launch Anonymous. 101 

XXXIV. The Mariners . . . . .P. Benjamin. 101 
XXXV. Grandiloquence Anonymous. 102 

XXXVI. The two Robbers (Dialogue) . . Dr. Aikin. 104 

XXXVII, Seneca Lake Percival. 105 

XXXVIII. Greek "Welcome to the Swallow . Anonymous. 106 

XXXIX. The Sound of the Sea . . . . Mrs. Hemans. 107 
XL. Speech of the Scythian Ambassadors 

to Alexander the Great . . . Translation. 108 

XL I. How to tell Bad News (Dialogue) . Anonymous. 109 

XL II.. The Grave of the Indian Chief . . W. C.Bryant. 110 

XLIII. Old Ironsides O.W. Holmes. Ill 

XLIV. Grecian Fable Foote. 112 

XLV. The Bended Bow Mrs. Hemans. 113 

XLVI. David and Goliah (Dialogue) . . H. More. 114 

XL VII. Destruction of Sennacherib . . . Byron. 116 
XL VIII. The Pilgrim Fathers . ., . .J. Pierpont. 116 

XLIX. Lament of Alpin Macplierson. 118 

L. The Siege of Calais (Dialogue) . . Fielding. 119 

LI. Spectacles, or " Helps to Read" . . Byrom. 121 

LII. Columbus Everett. 122 

LIII. The Soldier's Dream .... Campbell. 123 

LIV. The Duel Hood. 124 

LV. Outalissi Campbell. 126 

LVI. The Dying Chief Anonymous. 127 

LVII. Address to the Surviving Veterans of 

the Revolution D. Webster. 128 

LVIII. The Murdered Traveller . . . W.C. Bryant. 130 

LIX. Cupid's Warning . . . . H F. Gould. 131 

LX. Boadicea Coxoper. 132 

L XL Song of the Stars .... W. C.Bryant. 133 

L XII. The Dorchester Giant . ". . . O. W. Holmes. 134 

LXIII. Green River W.C. Bryant. 136 

LXIV. General Wolfe to his Army . . Aikin. 137 

LXV. The Cameleon Merrick. 138 

LXVI. An Indian at the Burial-place of his 

Fathers W.C.Bryant. 140 

L XVII. The Seminole's Reply . -. . G. W. Patten. 1 42 

LXVIII. The Gladness of Nature . . . W. C.Bryant. 143 

LXIX. The Tragical Histoiy of Major Brown Hood. 144 

LXX. The Fishermen J.G. Whittier. 147 

LXXI. On the Shortness of Lif6 . . . Cowper. 149 

LXXII. The Directing Post .... Lovell. 150 

LXXIII. Song of Marion's Men . . . .W.C. Bryant. 151 

LXXIV. Washington's Statue . . . Tuckerman. 153 

LXXV. " Seventy -six" W.C.Bryant. 154 

LXXVI. To the Eagle Percival. 155 

LXXVIL The Affair of Lexington and Concord . Everett. 156 

LXXVIII. The Vision of Liberty . . . . Ware. 157 

LXXIX. The Greek Partisan .... W. C. Bryant. 160 

LXXX. Rolla's Address to the Peruvians . Sheridan. 161 

- LXXXI. Malt Sermon Anonymous. 162 

LXXXII. The Cold-water Man . . . . Anonymous. 163 

LXXXIII. The African Chief . . . .W.C. Bryant. 164 

L XXXIV. Eloquence of James Otis . . . Mrs. Child. 166 

LXXXV. The Death of Aliatar .... W.C.Bryant. 168 

LXXXVI. The Exile of Erin .... Anonymous. 170 

LXXXVII. The Fathers of Massachusetts . . Everett. 171 



Xll 



CONTENTS. 



Exercise Pago 

LXXXVIIT. " Lodgings for Single Gentlemen" . Colman. 172 

L XXXIX. To the Evening Wind . . . . W. C Bryant. 173 

XC. Norval and Glenalvon (Dialogue) . Home. 174 

XCI. Military Glory Marmontel. 177 

XCII. Battles on the Rio Grande . . . T. B. Thayer. 178 

XCIII. The Soldier's Anticipation of Peace . Coleridge. 179 

XCIV. Peace Thomson. 180 

XCV. Peace and War Shelley. 181 

XCVI. The Colonists (Dialogue) . . .Dr. Aikin. 182 

XC VII. Scenes from the "Little Merchants" . M. Edgeworih. 185 

XCVIII. Scene from William Tell . . . Knowles. 190 

XCIX. Lochiel's Warning (Dialogue) . . Campbell. 195 

C. Cato and Decius (Dialogue) . . Addison. 197 

CI. The Greek Emigrant . . . . J. G. Percival. 199 

CII. War Song of the Greeks . . . Campbell. 200 

CIII. Hotspur's Answer to King Henry . Shakspeare. 201 

CIV. Rienzi to the Romans .... Moore. 202 

CV. Scene from Brutus (Dialogue) . . Payne. 204 

CVI. Goldau Neal. 20G 

CVTI. Valedictory Address .... Putnam. 208 

C VIII. Debate on the Character of Julius Caesar Knoicles. 209 

CIX. Scene from King Richard II. . . Shakspeare. 244 

CX. Scene from the Merchant of Venice . Shakspeare. 2 48 

CXI. Scene from the Vespers of Palermo . Mrs. Hemans. 252 

CXII. Successful Attempt to Raise the Wind Dickens. 255 

CXIII. The Alehouse Orator .... Anonymous. 259 

CXIV. "Excelsior" Longfellow. 262 



THB 



JUYENILE SPEAKER. 



PART I. 

PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
LESSON I. 

PREPARATORY TRAINING. 
Proper Attitude* for Practice of Vocal Exercises. 

The proper attitude for the practice of exercises de- 
signed to cultivate the voice, requires attention to the fol- 
lowing directions for firm, easy, and graceful position: 
Advance the right foot, about a hand's breadth from the 
left. Let the left limb be straight, so as to givefrm sup- 
port to the body ; but let the right knee bend a little, so as 
to keep the attitude easy; and, for the same purpose, let 
the toes point moderately outward — not straight forward. 
When practising exercises designed for strengthening the 
vocal organs, the arms should be placed akimbo, with the 
elbows thrown back as far as possible, so as to open the 
chest. The shoulders should be held back and down — 
the head, perfectly erect. 

The pupil will perhaps ask, " Why all this attention to posi- 
tion ?" The answer is, that the weight of the body cannot rest 
easily, if planted upon both feet, equally. This position is, for 
the purposes of speech, stiff and awkward. We bend the knee, 
therefore, of one limb, and throw the weight of the body on the 
other. This posture gives us an easy and unconstrained atti- 
tude, without which the breath cannot be drawn freely and 
fully, and, consequently, the voice cannot sound clear. The 
arms are placed. akimbo, and the shoulders held back and down, 

* The teacher can never be too attentive to this preliminary point. The 
weak and imperfect voices which boys so often betray in their declama- 
tion, are mainly caused by the faulty habit of imperfect breathing, owing 
to wrong positions of the body. An erect attitude, an open chest, and full 
breath, are all indispensable to full voice, and easy, energetic speaking. 

A 



2 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

to keep the chest open, to secure a full supply of breath, and to 
make the voice ring in the chest and head, and thus give it a 
true and full sound. If the head is allowed to droop, and the 
chest to sink, it partly shuts up the organs, and so prevents the 
sound of the voice from coming forth clearly. But when the 
head is held erect, and the chest is raised and expanded, the 
organs are freely opened, and the voice fully let out. 

Exercises in Breathing. 
To prepare the organs for full efforts of voice, it is important 
to acquire the habit of full and deep breathing ; as public speak- 
ing demands a much stronger voice, and, consequently, a larger 
supply of breath, than private reading or conversation. Before 
commencing the subsequent exercises, therefore, let the pupil 
practise the following modes of respiration : 

1st. Draw in the breath very slowly and fully, till the 
chest is completely expanded, and the lungs are fully dis- 
tended. Repeat this three times, with strict attention to 
the proper attitude. 

2d. Let out the breath very slowly and sparingly, mak- 
ing the issue of the breath last as long as possible. Re- 
peat, as before. 

3d. After drawing in the breath, as before, send it out, 
with energy, in the style of a long-drawn, whispered cough. 
Repeat, as before. 

4th. Expel the breath with a sudden, short, whispered 
cough. Repeat, as before. 



LESSON II. 

ORTHOEPY. 
ARTICULATION. 

The pupil's attention is now to be directed to the prac- 
tice of orthoepy, comprising the following branches : 1st. 
Articulation, which regards the position and action of the 
organs of speech, as creating distinctions in the sounds of 
the voice. 2d. Enunciation, which regards the ?node of ut- 
tering the sounds of letters and syllables, with reference to 
the exact quality and character of each. 3d. Pronuncia- 
tion, which regards the sounds of letters and the accent of 
syllables, as combined in words, according to the rules of 
custom, in spoken language. 

The following exercises are meant to attract the pupil's at- 
tention to the exact sound of every vowel and consonant in the 



EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 3 

language, and thus to avoid the common faults of omitting, ob- 
scuring, or slighting the sounds of letters. The prevailing care- 
lessness of conversational usage, in our daily habits of speech, 
is apt to produce a corresponding faulty style in reading and de- 
claiming. The words moment and political, for example, are, in 
the current negligence of conversation, corrupted into " mo- 
ment," " politick," and, in the still greater negligence of puerile 
habit, the latter is corrupted into " pHiticle." 

Nothing is so effectual a guard agaiust such tendencies, as 
the habit of a close and watchful attention to the exact quality 
and character of sound, as associated in the ear with the form 
of eveiy letter to the eye. This result can be obtained only by 
vigorous practice on the elementary sounds and combinations of 
spoken language, as presented in the following or similar analyti- 
cal exercises. Much time should be occupied in practising and 
repeating these tables ; and for the care and labor thus bestowed, 
both teacher and pupil will be amply rewarded in the acquisi- 
tions of the latter. Nothing is more grateful to the ear of true 
taste, or more important to the purposes of speaking, than a dis- 
tinct and finished style of enunciation, as contrasted with one 
which is slovenly and low. The habits of the man, in this re- 
spect, are usually laid in boyhood ; and he who would be a cor- 
rect and graceful speaker, must be willing to toil for acquirement 
by juvenile effort. 

EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. 
I. — Voivcls and Diphthongs — Vocal or " Tonic" Elements* 

SIMPLE SOUNDS. 



1. AW ;t 

2. Arm ; 

3. An; 

4. Eve; 

5. Ooze, Look ; 

6. .Err: 



7. End; 

8. In; 

9. Air; 

10. Up; 

11. Or; 

12. On. 



COMPOUNDS. 

The following elements are formed by combining two sounds, 
and, on that account, are called compound elements. A in ale, 
for instance, has two sounds : the sound commences with the 
letter a, and closes with a slight approach to the sound of ee. I 
in ice is a compound of a in a n and e in eve .% O in old, of an 

* Sounds which admit of vocal tone. 

t The teacher should have the pupil enunciate, in every instance, first, 
the word, then the sound of the letter in Italic type, without the word ; — 
repeating every word and the sound of eveiy letter, three times, with the 
utmost exactness, clearness, and fullness of sound. 

X The broad initial sound, in this compound element, as prescribed by 
Walker, is now obsolete, both in Ens-land and Amorica. 



JUVENILE SPEAKER. 



opening sound, followed by a slight approach to oo in ooze ; Ou 
in our is compounded of o, as in come, (or u in up.) and oo in 
ooze ; Oi in oil, of o in on and e in ere ; U in wse, of e in ere, and 
oy in ooze or foo&. 



II.—' 



13. .41e ; 


17. Oil; 


14. Ice; 


IS. £7se, (^Ae verb;) Use, 


15. Old; 


(&4e noun.) 


16. Our; 




-" Suhtonic"* " Subvocal," or Semivowel Elements, 


SIMPLE SOUNDS. 


1. Lull;] 


10. Fake; 


2. Maim; 


11. Zone; 


3. Nun; 


12. A^ure; 


4. .Rap; 


13. Ye; 


5. Far; 


14. IFbe; 


6. Siwgv 


15. Thine; 


7. Babe; 


compound of 8 and 12. 


8. Did; 


16. Joy. 


9. £a£-; 




III. — "Atonic"% "Aspirate" or Mute Elements. 


SIMPLE SOUNDS. 


1. Pipe; 


6. .He; 


2. Tent; 


7. Thin; 


3. Cake; 


8. Pus/*; 


4. Fife; 


compound of 2 and 8. 


5. -Cease ; 


9. Church. 



Elements Classified, by the Organs. 

The Tonics are all formed by the action of the larynx, 
and by various positions of the different parts of the 
mouth, which, during the utterance of every tonic element, 
remains open; while in the utterance of the Subtonics and 
Atonies the mouth is more or less s7mt, or obstructed. 

f^y Repeat the tonic elements, and observe attentive- 
ly the position and action of the organs, in articulating 
them. 

* So called by Dr. Rush, on account of their imperfect susceptibility of 
intonation, compared with the " tonic" elements. 

t The sound of each letter is obtained by commencing the word in which 
•he letter stands, and stopping on the first letter, and, sometimes, on the 
ast — when the letter occurs twice in the same word. 

t Toneless or muta elements. 



ORTHOEPY. 5 

I. "LABIAL" SOUNDS, FORMED BY THE LIPS. 

1. Babe; 4. Woe ; 

2. Pipe-, 5. Valve; 

3. Maim j 6. Fife. 

II. "DENTAL" SOUNDS, FORMED BY THE TONGUE AND TEETH. 



1. Did 3 

2. Tent 3 

3. T7mi; 

4. Thine 



5. Azure ; 

6. Pus&; 

7. Cease; 

8. Zone. 



compound of 1 and 5. compound of 2 and 6. 

9. Jay; 10. Church. 

III. " PALATIC" SOUNDS, FORMED BY THE TONGUE AND 

PALATE. 

1. C, " hard," and K, as in Cake ; 2. Cr, as in Gag 3 
3. Y, as in Ye. 

IV. " ASPIRATED" ELEMENT, WHISPERED BREATHING. 

H, as in He. 

V. "NASAL" SOUNDS, FORMED IN THE HEAD AND NOSTRILS. 

1. N, as in Nun ; 2. iVif, as in Sing, or iV, as in Irak. 

VI. " LINGUAL" SOUNDS, FORMED BY THE TONGUE. 

1. L, as in Lull ; 2. R, as in .Rap ; 3. R, as in Far. 



LESSON III. 

ORTHOEPY. 
ENUNCIATION. 

Combinations of Letters in Syllables. 
The practice of enunciating, with great exactness, syllabic 
combinations of consonants, is the only effectual means of at- 
taining a distinct manner of pronouncing words. The force of 
voice, in the practice of the following exercises, should be that 
of bold declamation. But the consonants should receive more 
attention, in the utterance, than the vowels. The utmost ex- 
actness should be observed in every sound. 

COMBINATIONS IN INITIAL SYLLABLES. 

* Bl, cl, f, gl, pi, spl, si 3 as in blame, clime, few, 
glide, please, spleen, slew. 

* The combinations in Italics to be articulated very forcibly, after pro- 
nouncing the words, and to be enunciated simultaneously by the class, af- 
ter the teacher. 



6 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Br, cr, dr,fr,gr, pr, spr, tr, sir, shr ; as in brave, cried, 
dread, frown, grind, pray, sprung, true, stray, shriek. 
Sm, sn, sp, st ; as in small, snow, spare, step. 

COMBINATIONS IN FINAL SYLLABLES. 

Ld, If, Ik, Im, lp, Is, Ise, It, Ive; as in hold, haiZ' d, gulf, 
silk, elm, scalp, toils, wells, else, melt, elve. 

M'd, 7ns, nd, ns, nk, nee, nt ; as in maim'd, gleams, and, 
dens, bank, once, ant. 

Rb, rd, rk, rm, rn, rse, rp, rt, rve, rVd, rk'd, rm'd, m'd, 
r'st, rv'd; as in barb, lord, hark, arm, urn, horse, warp, 
mart, carve, orb'd, marked, arm'd, scorn'd, dar'st served. 

Sm, s'n, sp, st, ks, ct, k'd,ft, pt, p'n, tfn, d'n, v'n, fn ; 
as in chasm, reas'n, chos'n, lisp, mast, casks, act, wak'd, 
oft, apt, op'n, weap'n, tak'n, ev'n, bright. 

L'st, m'st, nst, rst, dst, rd'st, rm'dst, rn'dst; as in heaV st, 
arm'st, canst, worst, midst, guard'st, arm' dst, burn'dst. 

Ble, pie, die, rl, bVd, dVd, pVd, rid ; as in able, triple, 
idle, hurl, troubl'd, cradVd, toopVd, world. 

Ngs, ngst, ng'd, ng'dst ; as in rings, singst, hang'd, 
wrong'dst. 



LESSON IV. 

ORTHOEPY. 
PRONUNCIATION. 

Elements combined in Words. 
The main points requiring attention in the following exercises 
are, 1. The exact sound of every letter; 2. The true accent of 
every syllable ; the force of the utterance being as in the full 
style of public speaking or bold declamation. 

Exercise I. — words containing " tonic" elements. 

1. A, as in AW. — All, war, law, awful, water, dawning. 

2. A, as in Arm. — Harm, bar, mart, balm, daunt, launch. 

3. A, as in An. — Add, band, mass, last, slant, dance. 

4. E, as in jEve. — Theme, feel, heed, *week, feet, deep. 

5. Oo, as in Ooze; Oo, as in Look. — Cool, boom, moon, 

*hook, hoop, boot. 

6. E, as in JErr. — Erst, serve, earth, firm, mercy, person. 

7. E, as in End. — Elk, hence, let, bell, den, bed. 

* The same sound shortened. 



ORTHOEPY. 7 

8. 7, as in In. — Din, dim, bid, ill, lip, bit. 

9. A, as in ^4ir. — Bare, fare, hair, stare, barely, aware. 

10. Z7, as in Up. — Up, bud, gum, dun, but, done. 

11. O, as in Or. — Orb, born, cork, sort, form.. 

12. O, as in On. — On, mob, bog, rod, top, loss. 

13. A, as in ^41e. — Ace, day, hail, lade, make, came. 

14. I, as in Ice. — Dice, bide, life, lime, file, mine. 

15. 0, as in Old. — Oh, go, bold, home, lone, hope. 
10. Ou, as in Our. — Out, loud, how, cow, fowl, crown. 

17. Oi, as in Oil. — Boil, toil, joy, coin, broil, rejoice. 

18. U, as in Use, [long, as in the verb, — short, as in the 

noun.] — Pule, tune, fume; mute, duke, dupe. 

II. " SUBTONIC" ELEMENTS. 

1. L, as in Lull. — Loll, lie, lad, all, weal, dull. 

2. M, as in Maim. — Mime, may, move, am, him, hum. 

3. N, as in Nun. — Nine, nay, now, an. den, din. 

4. R, as in Rarj. — [R initial, before a vowel, or after a 

consonant: — hard, but not rolled^ — Raw, red, rid, 
ream, robe, rude, rub. 

5. R, as in Far : [r final, or before a consonant: — soft, not 

silent.] — Hare, bar, ear, ire, ore, lure, bur. 

Exercise on words containing both sounds of R. 
Rare, rear, roar, reared, roared, rarely, drier, error, 
horror, terror, brier, prior, truer, crier. 

6. Ng, as in Sing ; [or n, before g hard or k.] — King, 

gong, hang, anger, bank, ink. 

7. B, as in Babe. — Babe, ball, bead, blab, mob, curb. 

8. D, as in Did. — Did, dawn, den, laid, mad, bed. 

9. G, as in Gag.— Gig, gave, gall, gull, hag, log. 

10. V, as in Valve.— Valve, vaunt, cave, leave, velvet, 

survive. 

11. Z, as in Zone, [or s flat.] — Zone, maze, has, daisies, 

disease. 

12. Z, as in Azure, [or s, as in measure?^ — Seizure, meas- 

ure, vision, composure, derision. 

13. Y, as in Ye. — Ye, yes, young, yawn, yearly. 

14. TF, as in Woe. — Way, was, ware, wed, wine. 

15. Th, as in Thine. — They, than, then, thee, bathe, 

beneath. 

16. J, as in Joy, [and G soft.] — Joy, jar, jilt, page, giant, 

judge. 



8 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

III. "ATONIC" ELEMENTS. 

1. P, as in Pipe. — Pulp, pall, pile, pale, paper, pulpy. 

2. T, as in Tent. — Tight, tall, top, mat, tatter, total. 

3. C, hard, and K, as in Cake; and Q, as in Queen. — 

Key, cane, queen, creak, deck, cork. 

4. F, as in Fife.— Fade, fell, file, off, hoof, fly. 

5. S, (sharp,) and C, soft, as in Cease. — Say, see, sauce, 

mass, source, ceaseless. 

6. H, as in He. — Hail, had, heel, hit, what, whet. 

7. Th, as in Thin. — Thank, through, thong, thrust, hath, 

breath. 

8. Sh, as in Tus7i. — Sham, shine, share, shroud, ash, hush. 

9. Ch, as in Church. — Chair, check, march, chine, fetch. 



LESSON V. 

aUALITY OF THE VOICE. 
"pure" or "head" tone. 

Pure head tone* is voice so formed as to resound in 
the head. A clear, smooth sound, and, commonly, a high, 
or, at least, a moderately high pitch of voice, are used in 
this form of tone. It is the kind of voice which we use 
in singing treble notes. It implies a vocal sound free 
from all harshness and impurity, such as we hear in gut- 
tural and nasal, and other faulty tones. 

RuLE.f — Pure "head" tone, is used in the utterance 
of any passage which contains pathetic, melancholy, and 
sorrowful emotions. It belongs also to tranquillity and to 
joyous feeling, in all its various degrees. 

EXERCISES IN PURE HEAD TONE. 
Exercise I. — Chief. 

t[From the Orphan Boy.]§ 

And now they've tolled my mother's knell, 

And I'm no more a parent's joy : 
O lady ! I have known too well 

What 'tis to be an orphan boy ! 

* The phrase "pure tone" is often used, in elocution, to denote the ef- 
fect of "head tone," in music. 

t This rule, in substance, is to be impressed on the mind of the pupil. 

X The teacher may read these exercises, first, himself, to exemplify the 
style, then have the class read with him, simultaneously, and then have 
every pupil read each example, separately. 

§ The pieces from which these exercises are taken, niay, in general, be 
found by referring to the Contents. 



TONE. 

II. — Pathos. 

[From Charity.— By Mrs. S. N. Coleridge.] 

Open your hospitable door, 

And shield me from the biting frost ; 
Cold, cold it blows across the moor, 

The weary moor that I have crossed. 

III. — Tranquillity. 
[From Wilson's Lines on a Highland Glen.] 

To whom belongs this valley fair, 
That sleeps beneath the filmy air, 

Even like a living thing, — 
Silent, as infant at the breast, 
Save a still sound that speaks of rest, — 

That streamlet's murmuring? 

IV. — Happiness, 
[From the Poor Man's Garden. — By Mary Howitt.] 

Ah ! yes, — the poor man's garden, 

It is great joy to me, 
This little, precious piece of ground, 

Before his door to see. 

V. — Animation and Cheerfulness. 

[From Spring. — Anonymous.] 

The little brooks run on in light, 
As if they had a chase of mirth ; 

The skies are blue, the air is balm ; 

Our very hearts have caught the charm 
That sheds a beauty over earth. 

VI. — Humor and Gayety. 
[From Hodge and the Vicar. — Anonymous.] 

Hodge, a poor honest country lout, 
Not over-stocked with learning, 

Chanced on a summer's eve, to meet 
The vicar home returning. 

" Ah ! Master Hodge," the vicar cried, 
" What ! still as wise as ever ? 
The people in the village say 
That you are wondrous clever." 
A 2 



10 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

" Why, Master Parson, as to that, 
I beg you'll right conceive me ; 
I do not brag ; but yet I know 
A thing or two, believe me." 

VII.— Joy* 

[From Wordsworth's Idiot Boy.] 

But when the pony moved his legs, 
Oh ! then for the poor idiot boy ! 
For joy he cannot hold the bridle, 
For joy his head and heels are idle- 
He's idle all for very joy. 

His heart it was so full of glee, 
That, till full fifty yards were gone, 
He quite forgot his holly whip, 
And all his skill in horsemanship ; 
Oh ! happy, happy, happy John ! 



LESSON VI. 

PRACTICE OF PURE HEAD TONE ON THE ELEMENTS. 

Turn back to the elements, and repeat the tonic ele- 
ments in tones of 1, pathos; 2, tranquillity; 3, anima- 
tion ; 4, joy ; as they occur in the preceding examples.! 
Repeat each element three times, in succession ; being 
careful, meantime, to preserve perfect purity of tone. 
These should be practised as the exercises preceding; 
first, the teacher giving an example, then the teacher and 
the pupils reading together, and then each pupil separ- 
ately. 

* The teacher should endeavor, in every way, to aid his pupils in enter- 
ing, with fall spirit, into every feeling which they express, so as to obtain 
full and true tones. There is but little danger of their overdoing the ex- 
pression. No fault is more common with boys than a dry, inexpressive 
style of voice, caused by inattention, want of feeling and interest, or false 
restraint. 

t To secure a perfect exemplification of every tone, in the practice of 
the elements, select, from one of the examples, any emphatic word, con- 
taining a long vowel; repeat this word three times, so as to fix its tone 
definitely in the ear. Then repeat the elements in the same tone. Pro- 
ceed, in the same way, with all the other examples. 



ROUND TONE. 11 



LESSON VII. 

" OROTUND," OR ROUND TONE. 

Round Tone is a stronger and deeper voice ; and it de- 
mands a wider opening of the organs than that which is 
merely pure or smooth tone. It causes the voice to re- 
sound in the chest and throat, as well as the head ; and 
resembles the upper bass notes and lower tenor notes, in 
music. It requires a full and free opening of the mouth 
and throat. Head tone is not capacious enough to ex- 
press deep and powerful feeling. In all such emotions, 
therefore, round tone is used, as producing a fuller effect 
of voice. 

The two great divisions in the " quality" of the voice, 
are head tone and round tone. Head tone is used wher- 
ever the piece expresses but the single emotion of pathos , 
tranquillity, or joy ; but round tone is requisite wherever 
there is expressed, in addition to one of these feelings, 
grandeur or sublimity. Pathos, for example, when ex- 
pressed separately, is uttered with smooth tone ; but when 
combined with grandeur, the round tone must be used, to 
express it fully. 

The pupil should practise the tonic or vocal and diphthongal 
elements, in the round tone, before commencing the following 
examples. No exercise is more conducive to the formation of 
that manly fullness of voice which is required in all energetic 
and bold declamation.* 

Rule. — Orotund or round tone, is used when solemnity, 
pathos, or tranquillity, is blended with sublimity and 
grandeur. It characterizes the tone of reverence : it is 
used, also, in bold declamation, and in the expression of 
joy, when mingled with noble and exalted emotion. 

EXERCISES IN OROTUND, OR ROUND TONE. 
Exercise I. — Pathos, Solemnity, and Grandeur. 

[From the Loss of the Royal George. — By Cowper.] 

Toll for the brave ! 

The brave that are no more ; 

* Nothing is more important to an impressive elocution than the perfect 
command of round tone ; and this is a trait of voice in which boys brought 
up in cities are apt to be extremely deficient, owing to their usual seden- 
tary and inactive habits. 



12 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

All sunk beneath the wave, 
Fast by their native shore ! 

IT. — Sublimity and Joy. 

[From the Sunbeam. — By Mrs. Hemans.] 

Thou art no lingerer in monarch's hall, 
A joy thou art, and a wealth to all ; 
A bearer of hope unto land and sea ; — 
Sunbeam, what gift hath the world like thee 1 

Thou walkest the billows, and Ocean smiles : 
Thou hast touched with glory his thousand isles ; 
Thou hast lit up the ships and the feathery foam, 
And gladdened the sailor like words from home. 

III. — Reverence. 

O Lord, my God, Thou art very great! Thou art 
clothed with honor and majesty ; who coverest thyself 
with light as with a garment ; who stretchest out the 
heavens like a curtain : who layeth the beams of his 
chambers in the waters ; who maketh the clouds his 
chariot ; who walketh upon the wings of the wind ; who 
laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be re- 
moved forever. 

IV. — Declamatory Style. — Courage and Boldness. 

[From Gustavus Vasa's Address to the Swedes.] 

Come, come ye on, then ! Here I take my stand ! — 

Here on the brink, the very verge of liberty. 

Although contention rise unto the clouds, 

Mix heaven with earth, and roll the ruin onward, 

Here will I fix, and breast me to the shock, 

Till I or Denmark fall. 

Haste, brave men ! 
Collect your friends to join us on the instant j 
Summon our brethren to their share of conquest; 
*And let loud echo, from her circling hills, 
Sound Freedom ! till the undulation shake 
The bounds of utmost Sweden. 

* The orotund voice is here extended to an impassioned shout. 



FORCE OF VOICE. 13 



LESSON VIII. 

APPLICATION OF ROUND TONE TO THE ELEMENTS. 

Repeat the elements, 1st, in the tone of solemnity, pa- 
thos, and sublimity, as in the line of the first example of 
round tone : 

" Toll for the brave !" 

2, in the tone of sublimity and joy, as in the lines of the 
second example : 

" Thou hast lit up the ships and the feathery foam !" 

3, in the tone of reverence, as in the address, 

" O Lord, my God, thou art very great !" 

4, in the tone of bold declamation, as in the exclamation, 

" Come, come ye on, then!" 

5, in the shouting tone, as in the lines, 

" And let loud echo, from her circling hills, 
Sound Freedom !" 



LESSON IX. 

FORCE OF VOICE. 

The following exercises are designed to aid in securing a per- 
fect command of every degree offeree of voice, from whispering 
to shouting. They are meant for a thorough discipline of the 
organs, as well as an indispensable means of effective expres- 
sion. 

Exercise I. — Whispering, as in Terror. 

Step softly ! 
All's hushed as midnight yet. 

II. — The Half-whisper, as in extreme Anxiety. 

This is the room of the sick man. Make no noise ; he 
must not, on any account, be disturbed. Shut the door 
gently ; step softly ; and speak low. 



14 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

III. — Softened Force. — Sadness. 
[From Charles and his Father. — By Mrs. Follen.] 

The birds are flown away ; 

The flowers are dead and gone : 
The clouds look cold and gray 

Around the setting sun. 

The trees, with solemn sighs, 

Their naked branches swing ; 
The winter winds arise, 

And mournfully they sing. 

IV. — Moderate Force, as in quiet and placid address. 

[Hints on Companionship. — Anonymous.] 

Let your companions be select : let them be such as 
you love for their good dispositions, and whose habits you 
wish your own to resemble. 

V. — Energetic Force, as in earnest and vehement address. 

[From the Address of Manillas, reproaching the Roman people for re- 
joicing at the triumph of Ceesar over Pompey.] 

And do you now put on your best attire 1 
And do you now cull out a holyday 1 
And do you now strew flowers in his way, 
Who comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ? 

VI. — Bold Force, as in impassioned exclamation. 

[From Arnold Winkelried. — By Montgomery.] 

Make way for liberty ! 

This day, this hour, 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ! 
All Switzerland is in the field; 
She will not fly, she cannot yield, — 
She must not fall. 

VII. — Shouting, as in an alarm. 

[From Belshazzar. — By Croly.] 

King of the East ! the trumpet calls, 
That calls thee to a tyrant's grave ; 

A curse is on thy palace walls, — 
A curse is on thy guardian wave. 



FORCE. 15 

Behold a tide of Persian steel, 

A torrent of the Median car : 
Like flame their gory banners wheel, — 

Rise, king, and arm thee for the war !* 



LESSON X. 

PRACTICE OF FORCE ON THE ELEMENTS. 

Let the pupil repeat each of the tonic elements, through 
all the degrees of force indicated below, — commencing 
with a whisper; then proceeding to a half- whisper, and 
so on to a shout; breathing after every sound; and pay- 
ing strict attention to the directions given before, about 
position. 

whisper. half whisp. soft voice. moderate. loud. very loud. shouting. calling. 
• • •# + •'# 

Let the pupil now repeat, with a constantly increasing 
force, as noted above, the tonic elements, in succession ; 
passing, at each stage of force, from one element to an- 
other. 

Next, commence each long vocal element with a whis- 
per, and swell on to the strongest force of which the voice 
is capable,! as represented to the eye, thus : 



LESSON XL 

" STRESS." 

In the utterance of single sounds, there are various 
modes of giving out the force of the voice, more or less 
gradual, or abrupt. And these modes of voice have been 
termed "stress" in the nomenclature of Dr. Rush, the 
great author on the voice. 

* As a means of strengthening the voice, and securing power of utter- 
ance, the last of the above lines should be repeated with the utmost at- 
tainable force ; but always with a perfectly smooth tone. Shouting 
strengthens the organs and clears the voice. But vociferation and scream- 
ing hurt the organs and weaken the voice. 

T The above exercises should never be prolonged to the extent of 
fatigue. 



16 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 



I.—" RADICAL- STRESS." 

In the impassioned style of utterance, this mode of the 
voice opens abruptly, and lies upon the very beginning of 
each sound. This style is perfectly exemplified, when, 
in juvenile play, one boy wishes to startle another by the 
sudden exclamation, " Boh /" It is a sudden burst of 
sound, and is the natural mode of expressing all abrupt 
and violent emotions. In wiimpassioned style, it merely 
gives unusual decision and distinctness to enunciation, as in 
explaining, and arguing or reasoning. 

Rule. — Anger, fear, terror, and courage, require im- 
passioned radical st?-ess. 

Exercise I. — Anger. 

[From the Little Lord and the Ploughboy.] 
His little lordship furious grew, — 
For he was proud and hasty too : 
" I'll break your bones /"* he rudely cries. 

II. — Terror and Alarm. 
[From Halleck's Death of Bozzaris.] 

He woke to hear his sentries shriek, 

" To arms ! They come ! the Greek ! the Greek /" 

III. — Courage. 

[From the Speech of Sempronius, in Addison's Cato.] 

My voice is still for war. 
Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate 
Which of the two to chose, slavery or death ? 
No / let us rise at once, gird on our swords, 
And at the head of our remaining troops 
Attack the foe, break through the thick array 
Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon him. 

IV. — Explanation and Reasoning.] 

[From an Essay on the Immortality of the Soul. — By Addison.] 
A brute arrives at a point of perfection which it cannot 
pass. In a few years it has all the endowments of which 

* The words in italics exemplify the " radical" stress. 

t An example of unimpassioned radical stress, or that which merely 
causes a peculiar exactness and distinctness of enunciation, by the clear 
and decisive manner of opening every sound. 



STRESS. 17 

it is capable ; and were it to live ten thousand more, it 
would be the same thing that it is .at present. — Were a 
human soul thus at a stand in her attainments, were her 
faculties full-blown, and incapable of farther enlargement, 
I could imagine that she might fall away insensibly, and 
drop into a state of annihilation. But can we believe 
that a thinking being, which is in a perpetual progress of 
improvements, and travelling on from perfection to per- 
fection,— after having just looked abroad into the works 
of its Creator, and made a few discoveries of his infinite 
goodness, wisdom, and power, — must perish at her first 
setting out, and in the very beginning of her inquiries ] 

II.— MEDIAN STRESS. 

The second form of stress is termed median, because, 
in this, the force lies on the middle of the sound. It com- 
mences soft, stvells in the ?niddle, to either strong or moder- 
ate, as the case may be, and ends soft. 

Rule. — Median stress is used in solemn and grand 
emotions, also in gentle and pathetic feeling. 

I. — Solemnity and Grandeur. 

[From Addison's Cato.} 

*The stars shall fade away : the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years ; 
But thout shalt flourish in immortal youth, 
Unhurt amid the war of elements, 
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. 

II. — Pathetic Feeling. 
[From the Sailor Boy's First Voyage. — Anon.] 
" Farewell ! farewell !" 
Ah ! who can tell, — 
Save those, who've loved, as I, 
A mother dear, — 
What 'tis to hear, 
And say to her, " Good-by V 1 

III.— VANISHING STRESS. 
The force of voice, in this style of stress, lies upon the 
last part of the sound. This mode of stress commences 

* "Median stress," or the "swell'' and "diminish" of voice, occur in 
every considerable word of the above examples, bat especially on all the 
long sounds of vowels and diphthongs. t The souL 



18 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

softly, but ends abruptly and strongly; as in the impatient, 
or decisive expressions, "You shall /" or, " You shan't!" 
when uttered very impetuously. 

Rule. — Vanishing stress expresses impatient feeling, 
and deep determination and obstinacy. 

Exercise I. — Impatient Feeling. 

[From Lodgings for Single Gentlemen.] 

Next night 'twas the same, — and the next, — and the next : 
He perspired like an ox ; he was nervous and vexed. 

II. — Deep Determination and Defiance. 
[From the Seminole's Reply.— By G. W. Patten.] 

Blaze, with your serried columns ! 

I will not bend the knee : 
The shackles ne'er again shall bind 

The arm which now is free ! 

IV.— COMPOUND STRESS 

is that in which the voice forces itself out, in a jerking 
style, at the beginning and the end of a sound ; as in an 
exclamation of great surprise, or wonder. 

Rule. — Compound stress expresses surprise, wonder, 
scorn, and derision. 

Exercise. — Indignant Astonishment. 
[Bratus to Cassius. — From Shakspeare's Julius Caesar.] 

Shall one of us that struck the foremost man 
Of all this world, but for supporting robbers, 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
And sell the mighty space of our large honors 
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
I'd rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
Than such a Roman ! 

V.— THOROUGH STRESS 

is that in which the voice bursts out boldly at the begin- 
ning of a sound, swells onward to the middle, and also 
ends boldly, as in expressions of intense excitement and 
bold command. 

Rule. — Intense emotions of a bold character, are ex- 
pressed by thorough stress. 



STRESS. 19 

Exercise.— Battle Shout. 

[From Campbell's Hohenlinden.] 

On, ye brave ! 
Who rush to glory or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ; 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

VI.— TREMOR. 

This term signifies a trembling and quivering of the 
voice, as in the utterance of sorrow and of old age. 

Exercise. — The Tremor of Feebleness. 
[From Charity.— By Sarah N. Coleridge.] 

My eyes are weak, and dim with age, — 

No road or path can I descry ; 
And my poor rags ill stand the rage 

Of such a keen, inclement sky. 

So faint I am, — these tottering feet 
No more my palsied frame can bear ; 

My freezing heart forgets to beat ; 

And drifting snows my tomb prepare ! 



LESSON XII. 

PRACTICE OF STRESS ON THE ELEMENTS. 

Commence with radical stress, and repeat the tonic ele- 
ments, with radical, median, vanishing, compound, thorough 
stress, and the tremor ; sounding each element three 
times. 

If the black board is used in prescribing exercises, Radical 
stress may be represented thus Cr=-, all the force on the 
first part of the sound ; Median thus <Oi the force in the 
middle of the sound ; Vanishing —=c=^U, the reverse of radi- 
cal stress, the force lying upon the last part of the sound ; Com- 
pound thus CX3, the force marked at the extremes of each 
sound ; 'Thorough stress thus C^), the force marked at the 

beginning, middle, and end of a sound ; the Tremor thus, , 

each part of the sound separated. 



20 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

LESSON XIII. 

PITCH. 

The depth of all profound emotions, such as awe, is marked 
to the ear by their depth of tone ; and the vividness of lively- 
feelings, such as joy, by high notes of voice. The following ex- 
ercises are designed to aid the pupil in securing the effect of 
this natural law of utterance, by giving him facility in adapting 
his pitch to all notes of emotion. 

LOW PITCH. 

Let the pupil, when practising the following exercises, 
strike a low note on the scale, — not one that will cost him 
an unnatural effort, or make a hollow, artificial tone, but 
such as will fall upon the ear with deep effect. 

Rule. — Low pitch is used in the utterance of awe, so- 
lemnity, and reverence. 

Exercise I. — Awe and Solemnity. 

[From the Death of the Old Year.— By Tennyson.] 
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, 

And the winter winds are wearily sighing: 
Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow ; 

For the Old Year lies a-dying. 

1 1 . — Reverence. 
[From the Forest Hymn. — By Bryant.] 
Father! Thy hand 
Hath reared these venerable columns : Thou 
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down 
Upon the naked earth ; and, forthwith, rose 
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in Thy sun, 
Budded, and shook their green leaves in Thy breeze, 
And shot toward heaven. The century-living crow, 
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died 
Among their branches, till, at last, they stood, 
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark — 
Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold 
Communion with his Maker! 

MIDDLE PITCH. 

This is the natural or habitual pitch of the voice — the 
note to which we incline in conversation. 



21 

Rule. — Middle jiitch is used in unimpassioned thought 
and moderate feeling. 

Exercise I. — Lively Description. 

[From the Rainbow. — By Campbell.] 
The evening was glorious ; and, light through the trees, 
Played the sunshine and raindrops, the birds and the breeze :" 
The landscape, outstretching in loveliness, lay- 
On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. 

II. — Didactic Sentiment. 
Speaking of the progress of the mind in education, 
Milton uses the following beautiful language : " We shall 
conduct you to a hillside, laborious, indeed, at the first 
ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly 
prospects and melodious sounds, on every side, that the 
harp of Orpheus was not more charming." 

HIGH PITCH. 

The note implied in this form of utterance should not 
be forced or strained ; but the pitch should be as high as 
can be reached without laborious effort. 

Rule. — Joyous feeling requires high pitch. 

Exercise. — Rapture. 

[From the Orphan Boy. — By Southey.] 

Lady, you weep : *what isH you say ? 

" You'll give me clothing, food, employ /" 
Look dawn, dear parents, look and see 
Your happy, happy orphan hoy ! 

EXERCISE ON THE ELEMENTS. 

Let the elements now be practised as before; giving 
the sounds as low as easily practicable, at first, then on 
middle, and afterward, on high pitch. 



LESSON XIV. 

" MOVEMENT." 

The term movement regards the rate of the voice as 
fast or slow. Most juvenile speakers incline to great ra- 
pidity. To break up this fault, which hinders distinctness 

* The lines in italics exemplify the high pitch. 



22 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

of utterance and impressive effect, much attention should 
be given to the practice of 

SLOW MOVEMENT. 

Rule. — Solemn, reverential, and mournful emotions, re- 
quire slow movement. 

Exercise I. — Solemnity and Awe. 

[From Young's Night Thoughts.] 

*Nigbt, sable goddess, from her ebon throne, 
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 
Silence how dead ! and darkness how profound ! 

II. — Reverence and Awe. 

[From the XC. Psalm.] 

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all genera- 
tions. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever 
thou hadst formed the world, even from everlasting to 
everlasting, thou art God. 

III. — Solemnity, Awe, and Grief. 
[From the Burial of Arnold.— By Willis.] 
On now ! his requiem is done — 

The last deep prayer is said : 
On to his burial, comrades — on 

With the noblest of the dead ! 

Slow — for it presses heavily — 

It is a man ye bear : 
Slow — for our thoughts dwell wearily 

On the noble sleeper there. 

MODERATE MOVEMENT 

is the ordinary rate of voice with which we utter any un- 
impassioned sentiment. 

Rule. — Moderate movement is used for unimpassioned. 
language, in narrative, descriptive, and didactic style. 

Exercise I. — Narrative Style. 
[Historical Anecdote.] 

The ancient Spartans were not less remarkable for 

* The first of the above examples should be read with an utterance ex- 
tremely slow, and with very long pauses. 



LIVELY OR BRISK MOVEMENT. 23 

their bravery in the field of battle, than for brevity and 
wit in their answers. We have a memorable instance of 
their national spirit, in the reply of the old warrior, who 
was told that the arrows of the Persian host flew so thick 
as to darken the sun. " So much the better," was his 
answer; " we shall enjoy the advantage of fighting in the 
shade." 

II. — Plain Description, and Didactic Style. 
[The Starry Worlds.— From Addison.] 

Every star, though no bigger in appearance than the 
diamond that glitters on a lady's ring, is really a vast 
globe, like the sun in size and in splendor ; so that every 
star is not only a world, but the centre of a magnificent 
system, no less luminous, no less spacious than the radiant 
source of the day, has a retinue of worlds irradiated by 
its beams, and regulated by its attractive influence : all 
which are lost to our sight in immeasurable wilds of ether. 

LIVELY OR BRISK MOVEMENT 

Rule. — Animated and gay expression demands lively 
or brisk movement in utterance. 

Exercise I. — Descriptive Style. 
[Prom Gay's Fable of the Cameleon.] 

Oft has it been my lot to mark 
A proud, conceited, talking spark, 
Returning from his finished tour, 
Grown ten times perter than before. 
Whatever word you chance to drop, 
The travelled fool your mouth will stop : 
Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — 
I've seen ; and sure, I ought, to know — 
So begs you'd pay a due submission, 
And acquiesce in his decision. 

II. — Narrative Style. 
[From the same piece.] 

Two travellers of such a cast, 
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, 
And, on their way, in friendly chat, 
Now talked of this, and then of that, 



24 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Discoursed, awhile, 'mongst other matter, 
Of the cameleon's form and nature. 

III. — Conversational Dialogue. 
[From the same piece.] 

11 A stranger animal," cries one, 

" Sure never lived beneath the sun — 

A lizard's body lean and long, 

A fish's head, a serpent's tongue ; 

Each foot with triple claw disjoined, 

And what a length of tail behind ! 

How slow its pace ! and then its hue — 

Who ever saw so fine a blue ?" 

" Hold, there !" the other quick replies ; 

" 'Tis green — I saw it with these eyes, 

As, late, with open mouth it lay, 

And basked it in the sunny ray. 

Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed, 

And saw it eat the air for food." 

" I've seen it, sir, as well as you, 

And must again affirm it blue. 

At leisure I the beast surveyed, 

Extended in the cooling shade." 

" 'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye !" — 

" Green !" cries the other, in a fury; 

" Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" 

" 'Twere no great loss," his friend replies; 

" For, if they always serve you thus, 

You'll find them but of little use." 

QUICK OR RAPID MOVEMENT. 

Rule.— Extreme joy, Jiaste^ hurry, alarm, fear, and ter~ 
ror, require rapid utterance. 

Exercise I. — Extreme Joy. 
[From the Voice of Spring. — By Mrs. Hemans.} 

Ye of the rose lip, and the dew-bright eye, 
And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! 
With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, 
Come forth to the sunshine — I may not stay. 



25 



II. — Haste, Hurry, Alarm. 

[From the Wind in a Frolic— By W. Howitt] 

Then it rushed, like a monster, o'er cottage and farm, 

Striking their inmates with sudden alarm ; 

And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm. 

There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, 

To see if their poultry were free from mishaps : 

The turkeys they gobbled ; the geese screamed aloud ; 

And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd. 

III. — Fear and Terror. 

[From Halleck's Death of Bozzaris.] 

He woke to hear his sentries' shriek — 
To arms ! They come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! 
He woke to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout and groan, and sabre stroke, 
And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud. 



LESSON XV. 

"EXPRESSIO N." 

The term " expression," as used in elocution, signifies 
the utterance or tone of feeling. " Expression" implies 
that natural, true, appropriate, and impressive style of 
voice, which gives every tone its genuine character of 
emotion. It is the eloquence of heart and voice united. 
Without it, reading is dry and unimpressive. True ex- 
pression is the opposite of those uniform tones which are 
sometimes called " reading" tones, " schoolboy" tones, 
and " mechanical" tones. 

Expression, then, is that adaptation of voice which 
unites, in the utterance of emotion, all the elements of 
tone, that have been exemplified under the heads of 
quality, force, stress, pitch, and movement. Thus, to read 
or recite properly the example of Grief, — the first exer- 
cise under the head of Lesson V. (Pure Tone), we should 
combine, in the utterance, all the natural characteristics 
of grief, — pure tone, softened force, median stress, high 
pitch, slow movement. Blending all these properties in 
the sound of the voice, we read or recite with expression, 

B 



26 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

— that is to say, with the tones expressive of true feeling. 
Without such expression, our utterance is unnatural and 
unimpressive. Read the example, with reference to full 
expression, in all the above-mentioned particulars. 

It will be a useful exercise, now, to turn back, and review all 
the examples quoted under the different lessons, so as to ana- 
lyze and define the " expression" appropriate to each, in the 
manner exemplified above, and to read, anew, each exercise ; 
observing carefully to give every point of the expression close 
attention and full effect. 

Lesson V. Exercise II. Pathos: Expression; Pure 
tone, softened force, tremor, high pitch, slow movement* 
— Exercise III. Tranquillity: Expression; Pure tone, 
moderate force, median stress, middle pitch, moderate 
movement. — Exercise IV. Happiness: Expression ; Pure 
tone, spirited force, thorough stress, high pitch, lively move- 
ment. — Exercise V. Animation and Cheerfulness : 
Expression ; Pure tone, full force, radical stress, middle 
pitch, lively movement. — Exercise VI. Humor and Gay- 
ety : Expression ; Pure tone, spirited force, radical stress, 
middle pitch, brisk movement. — Exercise VII. Joy: Ex- 
pression; Pure tone, full force, thorough stress, high 
pitch, rapid movement. 

Lesson VII. (Orotund, or Round Tone.) — Exercise I. 
Pathos, Solemnity, and Grandeur : Expression ; Round 
tone, softened force, median stress, low pitch, slow move- 
ment. — Exercise II. Sublimity and Joy : Expression ; 
Round tone, full force, thorough stress, middle pitch, live- 
ly movement. — Exercise III. Reverence : Expression ; 
Round tone, moderate force, median stress, low pitch, 
slow movement. — Exercise IV. Courage and Boldness : 
Expression ; Round tone, full force ending in shouting, 
thorough stress, middle pitch, lively movement. 

Lesson IX. Exercise I. Terror : Expression ; 
Whispering, earnest force, radical and median stress, 
flow pitch, moderate movement. — Exercise II. Anxiety : 
Expression; Half- whispering, earnest force, radical stress, 

* Every exercise should be read, once more, with reference to the com- 
bining of "all the traits of voice mentioned in the ana^-sis of each. The ex- 
amples can easily be referred to, for repetition, by observing the number 
of the Lesson and the Exercise, in every instance, as mentioned in the 
text, and turning back to find it. 

t When terror is wild rather than deep, it is expressed by high pitch 
and rapid movement. 



"expression." 27 

high pitch, moderate movement. — Exercise III. Sad- 
ness : Expression; Smooth tone, softened force, median 
stress, high pitch, slow movement. — Exercise IV. Placid 
Feeling: Expression ; Smooth tone, moderate force, gen- 
tle radical stress, middle pitch, moderate movement. — 
Exercise V. Earnest and Vehement Address : Ex- 
pression ; Round tone, energetic force, compound stress,* 
high pitch, quick movement. — Exercise VI. Impassioned 
Exclamation and Address : Expression ; Round tone, 
bold force, thorough stress, middle pitch, lively move- 
ment. — Exercise VII. Alarihk Expression; Round tone, 
shouting, thorough stress, middle pitch, quick movement. 

Lesson XI. Radical St?'ess. — Exercise I. Anger: 
Expression; Smooth tone, shouting, impassioned stress, 
high pitch, rapid movement. — Exercise II. Terror and 
Alarm: Expression; Smooth tone, calling and shrieking, 
impassioned radical stress, highest pitch, rapid movement. 
— Exercise III. Courage: Expression; Round tone, bold 
force, impassioned radical stress, middle pitch, lively 
movement. — Exercise IV. Explanation and Reason- 
ing : Expression ; Smooth tone, earnest force, unimpas- 
sioned radical stress, middle and high pitch, moderate 
movement. 

Lesson XL Median Stress. — Exercise I. Solemnity 
and Grandeur: Expression; Round tone, moderate force, 
median stress, low pitch, slowest movement. — Exercise 
II. Pathetic Feeling: Expression; Smooth tone, soft- 
ened force, vanishing stress and tremor, high pitch, slow 
movement. 

Lesson XL Vanishing Stress. — Exercise I. Impa- 
tience : Expression ; Harsh tone,t impassioned force, van- 
ishing stress, high pitch, quick movement. — Exercise II. 
Stubborn Defiance: Expression; Round tone, bold force, 
vanishing stress, middle pitch, lively movement. 

Lesson XL Compound Stress. — Exercise. Indignant 
Astonishment : Expression ; Round tone, bold force, 
compound stress, high pitch, lively movement. 

* The interrogatory form of the language, in the example referred to 
above, causes the use of compound stress. But radical and thorough 
stress also belong to the style of expression in earnest and vehement ad- 
dress. 

t The opposite of smooth or pure tone. Harsh tone lets breath escape 
in a hoarse or whispei-ing style, along with every sound ; whereas pure 
tone is produced by letting out little breath. 



28 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Lesson XI. TJwrougli Stress. — Exercise. Bold Ex- 
clamation : Expression ; Round tone, shouting, thorough 
stress, middle pitch, lively movement. 

Lesson XI. Tremor. — Exercise. Feebleness : Ex- 
pression ; Smooth tone, softened force, tremor, high pitch, 
slow movement. 

Lesson XIII. Low Pitch. — Exercise I. Awe and So- 
lemnity : Expression ; Round tone, softened force, me- 
dian stress, very low pitch, slow and slowest movement. — 
Exercise II. Reverence : Expression ; Round tone, 
moderate force, median stress, low pitch, slow movement. 

Lesson XIII. Middle Pitch. — Exercise I. Lively De- 
scription : Expression ; Smooth tone, energetic force, 
thorough stress, middle pitch, lively movement. — Exercise 
II. Didactic Sentiment : Expression ; Smooth tone, 
moderate force, median stress, middle pitch, moderate 
movement. 

Lesson XIII. High Pitch. — Exercise. Rapture: Ex- 
pression; Smooth tone, impassioned force, thorough stress, 
high pitch, lively movement. 

Lesson XIV. Slow Movement. — Exercise I. Solemni- 
ty and Awe : Expression ; Round tone, softened force, me- 
dian stress, very low pitch, slowest movement. — Exercise 
II. Reverence and Awe: Expression; Round tone, soft- 
ened force, median stress, low pitch, slow movement. — 
Exercise III. Solemnity, Awe, and Grief : Expression ; 
Round tone, softened force, median stress, low pitch, slow 
movement. 

Lesson XIV. Moderate Movement. — Exercise I. 
Plain Historical Narrative : Expression ; Smooth tone, 
moderate force, unimpassioned radical stress, middle pitch, 
moderate movement. — Exercise II. Plain Description 
and Didactic Sentiment : Expression ; Smooth tone, 
moderate force, unimpassioned radical stress, middle pitch, 
moderate movement. 

Lesson XIV. Lively, or Brisk Movement. — Exercise I. 
Animated Description: Expression; Smooth tone, mod- 
erate force, unimpassioned radical stress, middle pitch, 
lively movement. — Exercise II. Animated Historical 
Narrative : Expression ; as in Exercise I. — Exercise III. 
Conversational Dialogue : Expression ; Smooth tone, 
energetic force, varied stress,* high pitch, brisk movement. 

* Changing with the emotion. 



"expression." 29 

L esson XIV. Quick, or Rapid Movement.— Exercise I. 
Extreme Joy : 'Expression ; Smooth tone, impassioned 
force, thorough stress, high pitch, quick movement. — Ex- 
ercise II. Haste, Hurry, Alarm : Expression ; Smooth 
tone, energetic force, impassioned radical stress, high pitch, 
rapid movement. — Exercise III. Fear and Terror : 
Expression ; Harsh tone, impassioned force, thorough 
stress, high, then low pitch, rapid movement. 



LESSON XVI. 

REVIEW OF EXPRESSION. 

The pupil should now be required to answer the fol- 
lowing questions. 

What is meant by Expression in elocution 1 

What is the " expression" of Grief ] — Pathos 1 — Tran- 
quillity % [&c, as they occur in the analysis of each.] 

By careful attention to the terms of the analysis, the pupil will 
be able to analyze passages for himself, so as to recognize, 
readily and with certainty, the style of utterance which any 
emotion requires. 



LESSON XVII. 

INFLECTION, OR THE SLIDES OF THE VOICE. 

The preceding lessons, with the exception of those on 
orthoepy, are intended to train and form the voice for the ap- 
propriate utterance of language which expresses feeling, or in 
which feeling is the prominent element. The part of elocution, 
with which this and the two following lessons are occupied, has 
regard more to thought than to feeling, and refers to the use and 
cultivation of the voice, in the utterance of language which is 
addressed to the understanding, more than to the affections. 
We have to do, now, with that part of elocution which makes 
meaning plain, rather than with that which makes emotion im- 
pressive. Not that the parts of elocution to which we are now 
going to attend, do not apply, occasionally, to the utterance of 
feeling ; for we shall find that the true expression of emotion 
is often greatly dependent on them. But they differ from other 
portions of the subject, in this respect, that they may be ap- 
plied, and often are applied, to the expression of meaning, re- 
garded as distinct from feeling. 



30 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

The following brief explanations and accompanying rules, will, 
it is thought, be found sufficient for the direction of juvenile 
pupils who are not sufficiently advanced to study the rules on 
inflection, laid down in the volume on Orthophony, in the Ameri- 
can Elocutionist, or the American School Reader.* 

"Inflection," as a term in elocution, signifies the up- 
ward slide of voice, with which a question is uttered, that 
may be answered by yes or no, or the downicard slide 
with which such a question is answered. Thus, " Do you 
know that person ?" — " I do." — The rising inflection is 
designated by the acute ('), and the falling by the grave 
(') accent. 

The same inflections, — greatly reduced, — apply, the 
former at the middle, the latter at the end, of most sen- 
tences. Thus, " Though life is short, art is long." 

The rising inflection is still farther reduced, in short 
clauses not marked by force of expression. Thus, " At 
the time appdinted, the procession moved on." This form 
of the rising inflection, in prose, differs but little from a 
mere suspension of the voice. In a prolonged form, it 
prevails in poetry, and in solemn expression generally. 

In close distinctions, and keen emotions, the circumflex, 
or double turn, — including both the upward and down- 
ward slides on the same syllable, is used, instead of the 
simple inflections. When the circumflex terminates with 
the rising slide, it is called the rising circumflex, — marked 
thus ( v ) ; — when it terminates with the falling, it is called 
the falling circumflex, — marked thus (*). This inflection 
occurs in close distinction, and peculiarly significant ex- 
pression, as follows: "Let any man resolve to do right 
now, leaving then to do as it can; — and if he were to live 
to the age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong." 

"And though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep, 
He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep." 

In peculiarly solemn, grand, sublime, awful, and terrible 
expression, all inflection is destroyed ; and a dead level of 
voice, called the monotone — marked thus (-) — is produced ; 
as in the following example : " And I beheld a great 
white throne, and Him that sat on it, from whose face the 

* Teachers who are disposed to extend their instruction in this branch, 
will find, in the Orthophony, the theory of Inflection as presented by Dr. 
Rush; in the American Elocutionist, the views of the subject taken by 
Walker and Knowles ; in the Reader, both systems combined. 



INFLECTION. 31 

heavens and the earth fled away ; and there was found no 
place for them." 

Rule on the Falling Inflection. — This inflection oc- 
curs in all very strong emotions, and falls on the emphatic 
■word of the clause or sentence that contains such emotion. 
Thus, " Come on, then ; be men /" 

"Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this !" 
" How beautiful is night !" 

The falling inflection, — without impassioned force, — 
takes place wherever there is complete sense formed, wheth- 
er at the end of a sentence, or only of a clause. Thus, 
" Let your companions be select ; let them be such as 
you can love for their good qualities, and whose virtues 
you are deeirous to emulate." 

Rule on the Rising Inflection. — This inflection takes 
place in gentle and tender expression, especially in the form 
of poetry, and is used wherever the sense of a passage is 
left incomplete : it occurs, also, at the end of an interroga- 
tive sentence, if the question admits of being answered 
by yes or no. Thus, 

" Content thee, boy ! in my bower to dwell, — 
Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well, 
Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, 
Harps which the wandering breezes tune, 
And the silvery wood note of many a bird, 
Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard." 

" As we cannot perceive the shadow moving along the 
dial-plate, so the advances we make in knowledge are 
only perceived by the distance gone over." 

" Were you ever at sea in a storm ?" 

Note 1. The depth of the falling, and the height of the rising 
inflection, depend, in all cases, on the force of the thought or the 
feeling which is expressed, or the length of the clause or sen- 
tence which contains the inflection. Slight expression, and 
short clauses, have slight inflections : strong expression, and long 
clauses and sentences, are marked by strong and extended in- 
flections. 

2. In all cases, the inflection falls on the emphatic word of a 
sentence or a clause. 

3. The common error in inflections, is to give circumflex for 
simple inflections — especially in contrasts ; thus : "In the one 
writer we admire the man ; in the dther, the work.'" 



32 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

A prevalent error is that of overdoing the simple iniiections 
into something like a succession of questions and answers, what- 
ever be the form of the sentence. 

But the common fault of juvenile readers, is that of keeping 
the voice uniformly up, at every comma, without regard to the 
demands of emphasis or complete sense, and letting the voice 
drop mechanically at the period. It is this practice, commonly 
formed into a rooted habit, in the early stages of education, 
that vitiates the elocution of after life, and fills academies, and 
colleges, and professional institutions, with mechanical, lifeless 
readers. 

Exercises. 

Falling Inflection. 

Example 1. " On, ye brave, # 

Who rush to glory or the grave I" 

2. "For life, for life their flight they ply." 

3. " It was but life he asked, — life, if it were to be pro- 
longed under tortures and privations : — he asked only 
breath, though it were to be drawn in the damps of the 
lowest caverns of their hills." 

4. " Vain is the ceaseless pursuit of wealth : it will never 
satisfy the cravings of the mind." 

5. " Let him albne ! advice is of no use; he must be 
taught by bitter experience." 

6. " In youth hope beckons us on ; health inspires our 
limbs ; action is delight ; and the air of life is yet fresh 
with the breath of morning." 

Rising Inflection. 

Example 1. " If in youth there is no diligence in sow- 
ing, in age there will be no harvest to reap." 

2. " When no trying event occurs to ruffle our spirits, 
it is easy to preserve composure." 

3. " From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain ; 

They are sweeping on to the silvery main, 
They are dashing down from the mountain brows, 
They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, 
They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves ; 
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves."* 

* Similar examples may be pointed out by the pupil, from the pieces 
for practice. 



EMPHASIS. 33 



LESSON XVIII. 

EMPHASIS. 



Emphasis, or concentrated force of expression, is the 
principal means of giving energy and effect to the utter- 
ance of thought or feeling. Young speakers are usually 
very deficient in this part of elocution, and need much 
practice on it. Emphasis is of various kinds, and requires 
different tones. 

1. The Emphasis of Emotion. — This form of emphasis 
occurs in the language of passion, or highly excited feel- 
ing, and is often expressed in exclamations and interjec- 
tions. Such emphasis is usually marked by the falling 
inflection, or downward slide of voice ; thus, " Oh! joyful 
day !" " Ah ! woe is me !" " Hail, holy light !" " Out 
of my sight ! thou serpent !" 

2. The emphasis of Designation. — This is a moderate, 
but well-marked falling inflection, addressed not to sym- 
pathy, but to the understanding. Its design is to indicate 
the subjects of pieces, paragraphs, and sentences, in dis- 
courses or essays, or any other form of didactic composi- 
tion. It marks out, also, every neio object introduced in 
a description, and every new character or incident in narra- 
tion. Thus, n The pleasures of taste formed the chief 
subject of the essay." "As I looked round the room, the 
peculiar figures of the carpet next attracted my notice." 
"A Mr. Brown was the next person who was introduced." 
" The low sound of distant thunder, now broke upon the 
ear." 

3. The emphasis of Correspondence and equal Contrast. — 
As this mode of emphasis always implies two objects, or 
subjects, it includes two inflections, — the^r^, usually, the 
rising; the second, the falling. Thus, " As is the begin- 
ning, so is the end." 

4. The emphasis of unequal Contrast. — This emphasis 
contrasts two objects, for the purpose of making one prom- 
inent and impressive. The more forcible of the two 
inflections, — the falling slide, — is accordingly used to in- 
dicate the prominent object of the two. Thus, " A coun- 
tenance more in sorrow than in anger. Note. — This rule 

B2 



34 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

will, in such cases, produce a rising inflection, even et the 
end of a sentence. 

5. Double and triple Emphasis may be produced by 
double and triple contrasts or correspondences. The 
contrasted words have, in such instances, contrasted in- 
flections ; all the inflections being regulated so as to ac- 
commodate the contrast between the words immediately 
preceding the period, and the pause at the middle of the 
sentence. Thus, " In the one writer we most admire the 
man ; in the dther, the work." " A friend cannot be known 
in prosperity ; and an enemy cannot be hidden in adversity. 

6. Emphatic phrases are sometimes marked by a separ- 
ate and different inflection on every word. This em- 
phasis is applied only in cases of remarkable force of 
expression. Thus, " There was a time when Athens had 
not one ship, — no, not one wall." 

In al the various forms of emphasis, which have been exem- 
plified, the spirit and expression of each, depend, obviously, on 
the turn or slide of voice with which the emphatic word is pro- 
nounced. Take away the inflection, and there remains no dis- 
tinctive emphasis : change the inflections, and immediately 
there is a confusion of the sense, and a flatness or a contradic- 
tion in the expression. 

Exercises. 
Apply the preceding rules to the following examples. 

I. THE EMPHASIS OF EMOTION. 

Examples. 

1. " Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I." 

2. "'To arms ! to arms ! to arms /' they cry." 

3. " Thy threats, thy mercy I defy." 

4. " Hold ! hold, for your lives ! " 

5. " Awake ! arise ! or be forever fallen ! " 

6. " Ah ! lady, now full well I know 

What 'tis to be an orphan boy !" 

II. THE EMPHASIS OF DESIGNATION. 

1. " Reading on the subject of natural history, has a 
great charm for the mind." 

2. " The habit of wasting time in idleness, is one of the 
worst faults to which a youth can be addicted." 



EMPHASIS. 35 

3. " But to discuss the third argument of my opponent, 
would demand more time and attention than either you 
or I can at present afford." 

4. " A rare and beautiful plant, near the window, im- 
parted a delicious odor to the air of the room." 

5. " The voice of General Washington was heard from 
without." 

6. " The invasion of Mexico formed the next topic of 
conversation." 

III. THE EMPHASIS OF CORRESPONDENCE AND EQUAL 

CONTRAST. 

1. " The greater part of the day, and much of the fol- 
lowing night, were consumed in an unavailing search for 
the lost boy." 

2. " The rich and the poor, the high and the low, the old 
and the young, stand on the common level of mortality." 

IV. THE EMPHASIS OF UNEQUAL CONTRAST. 

1. " Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit'? There 
is more 'hope of a fool than of him." 

2. " I think the fellow not so much a simpleton as a 
knave." 

3. " Not one system only, but the whole, must fall." 

V. DOUBLE AND TRIPLE EMPHASIS. 

1. " The habit is not so much an imperfection to be 
pitied, as a fault to be blamed?' 

2. "If the poor are subjected Jo many inconveniences, 
the rich are exposed to many temptations" 

3. " The happiness of youth depends on a state of activ- 
ity, that of age on one of comparative repose." 

4. " The loicked may be cheerful in prosperity : the good 
alone are found resigned in adversity." 

VI. EMPHATIC PHRASES. 

1. "He believed the assertion of the witness, contrary 
to the clearest evidence of facts." 

2. "This sentiment I would avow with the last breath 
of life." 

3. " The prisoner was declared guilty, without the least 
shadow of proof."* 

* More examples may be furnished by the pupil, from the pieces for 
practice. 



36 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 



LESSON XIX. 

PAUSES. 

It is impossible to express the meaning of a sentence, or to 
give deep effect to feeling, without a careful observance of 
pauses, to separate the disconnected parts of thought and lan- 
guage, and to allow the mind time to dwell on emotion. 

Rhetorical pauses are so termed, to distinguish them 
from the common grammatical points. They differ from 
the latter in not being so dependent on the structure, or 
syntax, of a sentence, but referring expressly to the sense 
of the composition, as it is expressed to the ear. 

The grammatical points, it is true, do very often coin- 
cide with the sense, but not uniformly. Sometimes a 
long pause is required, where no stop occurs, as in the 
following clause : 

" He woke to die." 

properly read or recited, 

" He woke * * * * to die." 

In many instances, on the other hand, the comma must 
be utterly disregarded. Take the familiar example of 
the phrases, " Yes, sir," or " No, sir." The comma, after 
the words yes and no, belongs solely to the syntax of the 
phrase, and has no effect whatever on the voice. To 
pause at this comma would create a halting, childish style 
of reading, like the syllabic enunciation of a learner. 

RULES ON RHETORICAL PAUSING. 

I. Wherever a strong emphasis occurs, it is preceded or 
followed, or both preceded and followed, by a long pause. 

Thus, " If thou speak'sty^foe, on the next tree 

shalt thou hang ALIVE, till famine — cling 

thee." 

Note. — The length of the rhetorical pause is, of course, 
dependent, wholly, on the force of the preceding or fol- 
lowing emphasis, which varies with the emotion. 

II. Make a long pause at the end of paragraphs, and 
especially of double paragraphs — those which are marked 
by double the usual space which separates one paragraph 
from another. 



PAUSES. 37 

Nothing is more important than this pause, as to its ef- 
fect in keeping the attention on the whole subject of a 
piece, and connecting all its parts. 

III. Pause before the verb, according to the emphatic 
force, or the length, of the nominative. Thus : " The 
day | * has been considered as an image of the year, and 
a year | as the representation of life." " Our schemes of 
thought in childhood | are lost in those of youth." 

IV. Pause before a verb in the infinitive mood, depend- 
ent on another verb. Thus : " Jesus charged his dis- 
ciples | to forgive their enemies." 

V. Pause when the parts of a sentence may be trans- 
posed. " The greatest misery is | to be condemned by 
our own hearts." 

VI. Pause before an adjective or a participle, when it 
follows its noun, and is itself followed by words depend- 
ent on it. " A plan | preposterous, to the last degree." 

VII. Pause before a pronoun, a conjunction, a preposi- 
tion, or any word used as a connective, that is itself fol- 
lowed by a dependent clause. 

" Nothing is in vain | that rouses the soul to activity." 
" He was an upright man | who could stoop to no dis- 
honesty." "We were to drag up oceans of gold | from 
the bottom of the sea." "Our social well-being de- 
mands | that we pay a prompt obedience to the laws." 

Exercises. 
Rule I. — Examples. 

1. "And when I mount j|t alive, may I not light || f|t 

If I be traitor, or unjustly fight." 

2. "Yon trembling coward || who forsook his master." 

3. " Silence || how deep, |||| and darkness || how profound!" 

4. " 'Tis as the general pulse of life || stood still, || 

And Nature made a pause, || an awful pause, || 
Prophetic of her end !" 

Rule III. — Examples. 

1. " The breath of spring | awakens the flowers." 

2. " ■ The balmy breath of incense-breathing morn' || 
was wafted on the gale." 

* The usual mark of a rhetorical pause. 

t The marks for long aud very long rhetorical pauses. 



38 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Rule IV. — Examples. 

1. " The officer commanded the skirmishing party | to 
be called in forthwith." 

2. " The servant made all practicable dispatch | to obey 
the commands which he had received." 

Rule V. — Example. 
" One of the surest signs of cowardice | is j to speak 
ill, unnecessarily, of the absent." 

Rule VI. — Examples. 

1. " He was a man | brave, sagacious, and upright." 

2. " Falsehood is a vice | detestable to the last de- 
gree." 

Rule VII. — Examples. 

1. " No moment can be justly called happy | which is 
spent in idleness." 

2. " The messenger was a liar | whose words were not 
credited." 

3. " Luxuries are brought to the table | from the four 
quarters of the globe." 

4. " Truth and honor demand | that we faithfully fulfill 
our part."* 



PRINCIPLES OF GESTURE. 



LESSON I. 

ATTITUDE. 

The word " gesture" is technically used, in elocution, to sig- 
nify the action of the arm and hand, which, in animated and im- 
pressive speaking, always accompanies utterance, and adds force 
to expression. Every action of the arm and hand, however, im- 
plies an attitude or posture of the whole body, from which it 
springs, and which, at the same time, decides its character. 
Thus, the wave of triumph is accompanied by, and is dependent 
on, erect and lofty attitude, which gives it additional effect. The 
idea, for example, of a youth reciting the line, 

* The pupil should furnish, from the pieces for practice, similar exam- 
ples of the above rules. These may be marked, with pencil, in the book, 
or chalked on the black board. 



ATTITUDE. 39 

11 Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave !" 
with a sunken, or crouching, or enfeebled attitude, would be ab- 
surd or ridiculous. Equally preposterous would it be to recite 
the following expressions of submissive reverence and fear, with 
a bold and commanding attitude ; as the language and the senti- 
ment obviously demand a mien expressive of the deepest humilia- 
tion : 

" Almighty ! — trembling like a timid child 

I hear thy awful voice ; — alarmed — afraid — 
I see the flashes of thy lightning wild, 

And in the very grave would hide my head !" 

The same strain of remark may be applied to the compara- 
tively reserved style of prose address, in which, if appropriately 
delivered, we should still be able to trace the well-marked dif- 
ference between the attitude of bold and vehement declamation, 
and that of earnest entreaty. Thus, in the appropriate delivery 
of the conclusion of Patrick Henry's speech for war, we per- 
ceive in the attitude of the speaker's body, as well as the action 
of his arm and hand, the expression, successively, of indignant 
astonishment, utter abhorrence, and irrevocable determination, as 
he utters these words :* 

" Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the 

price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! 

I know not what course others may take ; but, as for me, give 
me liberty, or give me death !" 

In the appropriate delivery, on the other hand, of the con- 
clusion of Lord Brougham's adjuration of the House of Peers, 
when pleading for the Reform Bill, 

" On my bended knees, I implore your lordships not to reject 
this bill!" we see the imploring attitude, as well as'the suppli- 
cating action of the most earnest entreaty. 

The action, without the attitude, would, in either of these 
cases, be lifeless and ineffectual — a cold affair of mechanism — 
insipid or disgusting to the feelings. But let the proper attitude 
be taken, and true, natural, living action follows, as a matter of 
course. 

RULES ON ATTITUDE AS AFFECTED BY EMOTION. 

I. — Solemnity renders the body still and sedate : Ani- 
mation inspires and quickens motion : Awe and Reverence 
quell and subdue bodily action, and restrain attitude: 
tArrogance and Presumption impel the body to motion, 
and incline to erect, expansive attitude. 

* The division of the paragraph by the dashes, presents three moods 
of feeling enumerated above. 

t The emotions exemplified in the rules, are, as often as practicable, 
presented in contrast, for the sake of securing strong and distinct im- 
pressions. 



40 juvenile speaker. 

Examples. 
Apply Rule I. to the following passages* 

Solemnity. — " How sweet and solemn is this midnight 
scene !" 

Animation. — " Up ! let us to the fields away, 

And breathe the fresh and balmy air !" 

Awe and Reverence. — " In winter, awful Thou !" 

Arrogance and Presumption. — Malvolio, [speaking to 
Sir Toby and others.] " Gro, hang yourselves, all ! You 
are idle, shallow things; I am not of your element." 

II. — Grief enfeebles the whole mien and posture : Joy 
impels to brisk motion and to springing attitude. 

Examples. 
Grief. — " Oh ! I have lost you all, 

Parents, and home, and friends !" 
Joy. — " Joy, joy forever ! my task is done ! 

The gates are past, and heaven is won !" 

III. — Fear, when it exists in the forms of timidity and 
constraint, or cowardice, merely, inclines to narrow, and 
confined, and cowering postures ; but when it amounts to 
alarm and terror, it occasions shrinking and starting, and 
wide positions of the feet, as if in the endeavor to run 
from and escape threatened danger : Courage braces the 
whole body in every limb, and renders the posture firm, 
and sometimes defiant, or, at once, braced and expanded : 
Confidence and Boasting lead to a bold or swaggering 
gait, with wide postures of the feet. 

Examples. 

Timidity. — M I dare not venture nearer. The danger 
is too great." 

Cowardice. — " I feel my valor oozing out at the palms 
of my hands." 

* The pupil should recite every example with the tone and manner of 
natural, deep, and full feeling, in the attitude described hi the rule. The 
teacher is aware that, to the susceptible spirit of youth, the impressive ef- 
fect of attitude is of vast assistance to imagination and feeling — the sources 
of expression and eloquence. Gesture may be added, as a farther aid to 
vivid effect. See Rules of Gesture, in subsequent pages. 



ATTITUDE. 41 

Fear. — "For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be 
bound." 

Terror. — " The foe ! they come, they come !" 

IV. — Anger produces wide positions and stamping. 

Example. 
Anger. — " And dar'st thou, then, 

To beard the lion in his den, — 
The Douglas in his hall I" 

V. — Indifference causes a languid, inexpressive pos- 
ture : Earnestness moves forward, as if in approach to its 
object: Aversion withdraws: Eagerness and Ardor spring 
toward their objects : Hatred and Detestation incline away 
from, and brace themselves against their object. 

Examples. 
Indifference. — "If you did, I care not." 
Earnestness. — " Rise, or Greece forever falls ! " 
Aversion, — "Away with an idea so repugnant to hu- 
manity ! 

Eagerness. — "Send danger from the east unto the west, 
So honor cross it from the north to south, 
And let them grapple !" 
Hatred. — " I hate him, for he is a Christian !" 

VI. — Entreaty and Supplication reach toward the per- 
son who is addressed, and cause, thus, an advancing and 
inclining posture. 

Example. 

Entreaty. — " Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this !" 

VII. — Admiration, when deliberate, leans back to en- 
joy the contemplation of its object ; — when earnest and 
intense, it leans forward, and hangs over its object : Dis- 
gust and Loathing turn away and withdraw from the per- 
sons or objects which cause them : Love and Tenderness 
draw toward whatever excites them, and lean forward. 

Examples. 

Admiration. — 1. "All hail, thou lovely Queen of Night !" 

2. "Oh ! speak again, bright angel !" 
Disgust andLoatliing. — "Out of my sight, thou serpent!" 
Love and Tenderness. — " O, my soul's joy !" 



42 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

VIII. — Revenge, when deep-seated and deliberate, 
braces the attitude of the whole body, as in deep deter- 
mination ; but when intensely excited, it becomes violent 
in movement and threatening in attitude, or springs upon 
its victim. 

Example. 
Revenge. — 1. " Cursed be my tribe, if I forgive him !" 
2. " Give the vengeance due 
To the valiant crew !" 

IX. — Pride, Haughtiness, and Scorn erect the whole 
frame, and throw the head upward and backward: Hu- 
mility keeps the head and eyes down, and the attitude 
subdued or partially confined. Defiance, when it antici- 
pates attack, braces itself in the attitude of resistance, in- 
clining backward ; but when it becomes bold and violent, it 
takes the attitude of attack, and faces its opponent, and 
walks up to him : Submission and Resignation bow or bend 
the body, and confine the feet in a still and withdrawn pos- 
ture : Meekness preserves an unbraced, motionless, unas- 
suming attitude: Tranquillity, Calmness, and Composure, 
take a steady, fixed, but unassuming attitude. 

Examples. 
Pride and Haughtiness. — " Then, when I am thy cap- 
tive, talk of chains, 
Proud limitary cherub !" 
Humility. — " I humbly thank your grace !" 
Defiance. — 1. " I do defy him, and I spit at him." 
2. " Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, 

Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest." 

Submission and Resignation. — " I am stripped of all my 

honors. I lie like one of those old oaks, which the late 

hurricane has strewed about my path. I am torn up by 

the roots, and lie prostrate on the earth. There, and 

prostrate there, I humbly recognize the Divine justice." 

Meekness. — " Pour on ! I can endure." 

Tranquillity. — " O'er all the peaceful world, the smile 

of Heaven shall lie." 
Calmness and Composure. — My thoughts, I must con- 
fess, are turned on peace." 



ATTITUDE. 



43 



RULES ON ATTITUDE AS AFFECTED BY THOUGHT, IN CON- 
TRAST WITH FEELING. 

I. Thought, when not accompanied by strong emotion, 
inclines, in oral and visible expression, to the unimpas- 
sioned attitude of tranquillity, in which the body does not 
incline forward, as in earnestness, but rather leans back, 
as in rest ; the weight of the body settling, not on the ad- 
vanced, but on the retired foot, as in the attitude described 
in the direction regarding the " breathing" exercises. — 
The attitude here intended may be thus described by the 
use of initial letters : R. f. (Right foot,) a. (advanced,) 
L. s. (Left supporting.) 

Example. — " The acquisition of knowledge is one of 
the most momentous duties of early life." 

II. Earnest address, on the contrary, takes the opposite 
attitude of the body, inclining forward, and the weight 
supported by the advanced foot. — Described by initial 
letters, thus : R.f. a. R. s. 

Example. — " Be assured, my young friends, that the 
acquisition of knowledge is one of the most momentous 
duties of early life. Let me entreat you, as you value 
your own happiness, never to neglect it." 

RULES ON ATTITUDE, AS APPROPRIATE TO THE DIFFERENT 
PARTS OF AN ADDRESS. 

1, If the opening of a piece is moderate and tranquil, 
the attitude of repose and tranquillity prevails, till the 
language becomes animated, warm, or energetic, and 
thence prompts action, and stirs the attitude. If the 
piece, on the other hand, commences boldly, the attitude 
must correspond, in boldness. 

Examples. — 1. Repose. — " Mr. President, it is natural 
for man to indulge in the illusions of hope." — R.f.a.JL.s. 

2. Bold Attitude and Action. — " Sink or swim, live or 
die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to 
this vote." — R-f- a. R.s. 

II. At the opening of a new paragraph, or a new 
branch of a subject, the rule, when the style of language 
is moderate, is as for the beginning of a piece of quiet 
expression. But when the style is bold, the rule for atti- 
tude is as at the commencement of an earnest address. 



44 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

In the former case, the speaker retires as he commences 
the paragraph : in the latter, he advances. 

Examples. — 1. "Mr. Chairman, this is nearly all I deem 
it important pow to advance.* I will detain my audience 
but for a moment longer, while I say a single word in ex- 
planation." 

2. " Mr. Chairman, I appeal, with confidence, to your 
own experience* and your personal sentiments, on this 
subject." 

COMMON FAULTS IN ATTITUDE. 

The errors t6 which young speakers are prone, as re- 
gards the attitude of the body, in the act of declamation, 
are principally the following : 

1st. A timid, feeble, and constrained posture, which 
keeps the feet too close — perhaps, even touching each 
other. There can be no natural freedom in the manner 
of any speaker who allows himself to fall into this fault as 
a habit ; nor can there be any force in his gesture, be- 
cause it wants a sufficiently free and firm base of support. 

2d. A careless and slovenly attitude, in which the feet 
are placed too far apart, and the limbs astride. This 
posture may do to represent a careless talker, who is 
speaking without any object in view. But it is utterly 
incompatible with the air and manner of respect for an 
audience, or even for the speaker's self. 

3d. An over bold and assuming position, in which one 
foot is thrown too far forward, as if the speaker had just 
taken a very wide step in the swaggering style of a bully 
or braggadocio. The effect of this style of attitude, is, to 
give the speaker an air of self-importance and display, 
which is apt to disgust his audience. 

4th. An awkward squareness of attitude, which gives the 
whole body an air of stiffness and rigidity. This fault 
arises from placing the feet parallel, and pointing straight 
forward from the speaker's body, instead of moderately 
outward at the toes. This error exemplifies the posture 
of an Indian or a rustic, but not of a cultivated speaker : 
it has firmness, but not freedom ; and it is totally destitute 
of grace. 

5th. Planting the iveight of the body on both feet equally, 
instead of allowing it to rest principally on one. The 

* The word in italics indicates the place for movement 



ATTITUDE. 45 

fault here indicated is adopted by some young speakers, 
under the false notion that it is a manly and firm style of 
attitude ; while it is merely the style of careless, awkward, 
or rigid habit, which negligent custom has made natural 
to the individual, or to the community in which he lives * 
The speaker who would have the free sway of bis body, 
as he addresses his whole audience in turn, must rest on 
one foot principally, and allow the other to be free from 
pressure ; otherwise he will be under the necessity of 
changing his whole position, every time that he turns from 
side to side of his audience, which he ought to do by an 
easy inclination of his whole person, but without shifting 
the posture of his feet. There is no fault more frequently 
displayed by young speakers, than that of systematically 
shifting position, and speaking, for a while, to the right 
side, and then, shifting anew, so as to speak, for a while, 
to the left ; instead of, all the while, turning the eyes, the 
head, and the whole frame moderately, so as to keep the 
whole audience always in the speaker's eye, and under 
the influence of his voice and action. 

6th. Keeping both limbs in a rigid, -unyielding posture, 
instead of allowing one to bend easily at the knee, so as 
to keep the attitude free and flexible. This fault makes 
the speaker's body seem to rest on two posts, rather than 
human limbs. 

7th. Allowing both knees to bend, in a feeble and un- 
manly style of attitude. This fault is the opposite to the 
one just described. It makes the speaker appear desti- 
tute of the power of self-support, as if overcome by faint- 
ness or extreme fatigue. It naturally excites pity, but 
never respect ; especially as it is usually accompanied by 
a slight courtesying motion of the knee-joints, which adds 
to the air of feebleness in the speaker. 

8th. The unmeaning and mechanical habit of keeping 
the body perpetually bending, at the back and the hip- 
joints, in a succession of slight bows. The single bow 
with which a speaker properly begins his address, is a 
sufficient mark of his respect for his audience ; and " the 
thousand and one" which sometimes follow, may be good 
physical exercise for the individual's own vertebrae, but 
they do not aid his speaking. Action should come from 
a speaker's arm — not from his backbone. 

* It is a fault nearly universal in New England, and constitutes the 
characteristic rigidity of speakers educated in that region. 



46 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

9th. The ungainly trick of placing the feet with the 
toes pointing straight forward, — as . mentioned under a 
former head, — leads to a very bad fault in- the mode of 
changing the speaker's position, in making an advance. 
It swings round the shoulder of the speaker toward his au- 
dience, and places him before them sideways, instead of 
fully fronting them. A true posture keeps the speaker's 
body fairly fronting all his audience, in turn, as he ad- 
dresses them successively with his eye, and by the easy 
turning of his head and body. 

10th. A haughty carriage of the whole body, caused by 
not only keeping the head up, but actually drawing it 
back, somewhat, from the audience. This fault gives the 
speaker an air of disdain rather than of persuasion. 

11th. A submissive and bashful air, arising from allow- 
ing the head to droop. The speaker who indulges this 
habit, seems servile and abject, — not manly and free, 
which is essential to the manner of one who is entitled to 
respect. 

12th. An irresolute and restless air, caused by incessant 
shifting of position. Animation demands movement, but 
only to a moderate extent. Liveliness is an excellence 
in speaking ; but restlessness, a fault. It makes the 
speaker seem incapable of any deep or solid effect of 
eloquence. 

13th. A post-like stillness of body, as if the speaker's 
whole frame were lifeless, except his tongue. The nerves 
of feeling, of motion, and of expression, extend over the 
whole body, and, wherever they exist, are all bound up 
in one general casing : they are meant to act together : 
it is only morbid and false habit that disconnects them in 
life and action. An earnest thought, in the mood of com- 
munication, naturally leads to gesture, as its mode of ex- 
pression. Hence we complain of a speaker as being dull, 
who uses no action of the arm, and no expression in the 
countenance. But no action of the arm can be natural, 
if it is not connected, occasionally, with those changes of 
attitude which necessarily precede the motions of the 
arm and hand, in earnest speech. Every new and strik- 
ing turn of thought, every fresh impulse of feeling, natu- 
rally produces a change in the posture of the body.* 

* It is, on this account, often found a useful practice to require of the 
pupil, while studying his piece for declamation, to mark, with a pencil, the 



ACTION. 47 

14th. No fault is more frequently displayed, at aca- 
demic exhibitions, than the awkward posture of speaking 
with the left foot advanced. This was the unavoidable 
concomitant of the unwieldy toga of the Roman orator. 
But it is utterly inapplicable to modern style. It curtails 
and shortens all the gestures of the right arm, and en- 
feebles their effect, by withdrawing them somewhat from 
the audience. True eloquence is earnest, and approaches 
those whom it addresses ; and the appealing arm and 
hand, stretched toward the audience, have this meaning 
in them. But if the left foot, instead of the right, be ad- 
vanced, it keeps back the effect of all action coming from 
the right hand. 

The attitude of the left foot in advance, is farther ob- 
jectionable, as belonging to the artisan, at the anvil or 
the bench, rather than to the speaker. 

The advance of the left foot, in attitude, is inappropri- 
ate in all circumstances which do not require the use of 
the left hand, in action. 



LESSON II. 

ACTION. 
COMMON ERRORS. 

1st. The obvious fault of keeping the hands down by 
the sides, during a whole speech or piece. A speaker who 
allows himself to indulge this habit resembles a wOod- 
en figure from the carver's shop, or a soldier training 
without his musket ; but he can do little good as an orator. 
The exercise of speaking is justly expected to warm the 
man into full life and action — not freeze him into a statue. 

2d. The disagreeable fault of gesticulating incessantly, 
instead of using gesture in strong emphasis only. The 
gesticulator is not unfitly compared to the monkey, with 
its ceaseless and unmeaning galvanic jerkings of muscle 
and limb. Liveliness is a very desirable quality in a 
speaker; but, if unrestrained, it takes away all manly 

places where a change in subject and style seems to demand a change of 
attitude. A little practice, in this way, soon makes the juvenile student 
expert in detecting and observing the proper places for natural chancre of 
position. 



48 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

dignity, and substitutes an air of childishness, which is apt 
to produce contempt rather than respect. 

3d. Ill-timed action, which either comes before or fol- 
lows after the emphatic word, instead of keeping strict time 
with it. Gesture not made in exact coincidence with the 
voice, seems to come from a disjointed arm : its effect, in- 
stead of being impressive, is merely awkward and ridicu- 
lous. 

4th. A niggardly and parsimonious use of gesture, which 
hardly lets the arm rise from the side, but confines it to 
the immediate vicinity of the speaker's body, by keeping 
the elbow pinned to the side. Action, if it is needed at all, 
should be free, both in character and scope : moderate it 
may be, if the character of the speaker's subject is such. 
But action frozen by timidity or reserve, is self-contra- 
diction in a visible shape. 

5th. Angular and jerking motions of the arm, instead 
of flowing and continuous ones. 

6th. Feeble and timid attempts at gesture, rather than 
gesture actually made. Action is nothing, if it has not 
energy enough to add force to thought and language. 
The main use of gesture is to enforce sentiment. But 
this it never can do, if weak in itself. 

7th. The fault of never raising the hand high enough to 
give power to any gesture in its descent. The half-raised 
arm can never give an effectual blow : neither can it give 
an effectual gesture. 

8th. The opposite habit of an ungainly lifting of the 
arm, so as to bring the hand greatly above the head, or to 
keep it long suspended in that position, when nothing in 
the character of the speaker's sentiment warrants it. 

9th. Making gestures uniformly in horizontal lines, and 
thus losing the manly force of the bold descent of the arm, 
or the elevating effect of its occasional ascent. 

10th. Making gestures uniformly flow in a line from the 
ear, instead of from the vicinity of the face, or making 
them fall inward, toward the speaker's body, instead of 
outward — from it. 

11th. Making gesture, with mechanical sameness, with 
the finger only, or the shut hand only, or with the edge of 
the hand, and only in one line, and with one degree of 
force, without regard to diversity of thought and language 
in connection with the subject. 



GESTUiti:. 49 

12th. Using a poetical or dramatic style of gesture, in 
speaking prose t and a prosaic or declamatory style, in re- 
citing verse, 

13th.. Making no distinction between the grave and no- 
hle style belonging to epic poetry, the rapturous character 
of lyric gesture, and the variety, freedom, and graphic ef- 
fect of dramatic action. 

14th. Allowing, in the use of the hand, the fingers and 
thumb to gather feebly together, instead of expanding. 
The speaker who indulges in this faulty habit, seems to be 
receiving rather than giving. 

15th. Holding the hand out straight and flat, like a 
board, instead of slightly curved in the line of the fingers, 
and sloping from the wrist downward. The faulty posi- 
tion has no appealing effect of human speech in it. 

16th. Pointing with a rigid straiglitness, or a feeble 
crookedness, instead of a slight curve, in the line of the 
forefinger. 

17th. haying the hand on the breast, in all passages 
which mention the heart, instead of restricting this acticlta 
to references to the speaker's personal feelings* 

GENERAL RULES FOR GESTURE -t 

I. The style of gesture, and the comparative frequency 
of its occurrence, depend wholly on the nature of the 
speaker's subject, and the character of the expression 
which he uses. 

II. A plain prose address on scientific or literary sub- 
jects, requires but few gestures, and these of a moderate 
character, as regards force and frequency of action, or its 
extent in space ; as the speaker, in such cases, is not ad- 
dressing feeling and imagination, which depend on action 
for excitement, but the understanding and the judgment, 
which do not require the aid of action ; their springs lying 
within the mind itself. 

III. An address or lecture on moral topics, requires a 
style of action more energetic, more frequently occurring, 
and occupying more extent of space; as such forms of 

* For fuller instructions regarding Gesture, see the American Elocu- 
tionist. 

t It is not meant, in laying down the above rales, that gesture is to be 
artificially made by prescribed directions, but to state those general prin- 
ciples which enable the speaker to detect the laws of nature, in visible 
expression. 

C 



50 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

speech require more force of feeling, and are more de- 
pendent on the action of imagination. 

IV. A political address usually takes yet a wider range 
of thought and feeling, and employs more largely the aid 
of imagination, and hence inclines to still more forcible, 
frequent, and expansive gesture. 

V. A literary or a moral address, if argumentative in 
its form, approaches the style of political address, in the 
force, freedom, frequency, and scope of its action. 

VI. The recitation of a piece in verse, depends neces- 
sarily on imaginative and poetic associations, much more 
vivid and graphic than those of prose composition. The 
style of gesture, therefore, in the recitation of poetry, is 
much more lively, forcible, varied, and impressive, than 
that of prose declamation of any description. 

VII. Poetic prose, which abounds in imagery and de- 
scriptive effect, approaches, in delivery, the style of poet- 
ry, as regards all its appropriate characteristics of in- 
tensity, variety, and power. 

VIII. The style of gesture in the recitation of verse, is 
regulated, in part, by the peculiar character of the poem 
which is recited. Epic poetry, from its grave and majes- 
tic character, inclines to comparatively few gestures. 
But these are, from the same cause, large in space, lofty, 
bold, slow, and sweeping, in their style. 

IX. The style of action which accompanies the re- 
citation of lyric verse, is, owing to the vivid, abrupt, and 
varied character of its language, much more intense, va- 
riable, and impassioned than that of epic poetry. 

X. Dramatic poetry, in the tragic form, is still more 
graphic, vivid, and imaginative, than even lyric poetry ; 
and it possesses, at the same time, much of the dignity 
and grandeur of the epic style. The speaker's style of 
action, in recitation, should correspond to these traits of 
expression. 

XI. The style of comedy, and that of humorous lyric 
verse, are nearly the same ; vivid, and descriptive, and va- 
riable, to an extent which would seem puerile in serious 
composition. But the playful character of these species 
of composition, not only justifies, but requires, very often, 
a high degree of graphic and even mimetic effect. 

XII. Extracts from professional speeches demand a due 
regard to the peculiar style of each. Gravity, reserve, 



GESTURE. 51 

and strict decorum, but yet an earnest and impressive 
style, belong appropriately to declamation drawn from a 
sermon. A vivid, earnest, yet grave, and manly style, be- 
longs to the style of action, accompanying pieces which 
exemplify the eloquence of the bar. 

XIII. The eloquence of the popular assembly, combines 
the styles already described under the heads of moral and 
political addresses. It sometimes, and properly, requires 
the style of poetic prose superadded, in the higher flights 
of eloquent expression. The "hustings" speeches of 
England, and the "caucus" speeches of America, furnish 
examples of this style. 

XIV. The style of speaking in deliberative assemblies, 
— that which is usually designated, in rhetorical classifica- 
tion, as "the eloquence of the senate," — requires the 
same attributes of action as the style of the popular as- 
sembly, but comparatively elevated, and chastened, and 
reserved, in conformity with the greater gravity of the 
customary occasions of deliberative address. The speech- 
es of distinguished Parliamentary orators usually exem- 
plify this style. 

XV. Speeches on anniversary occasions, at public fes- 
tivals, and in all similar situations, give action freer scope 
and more graphic and vivid effect than any of the prece- 
ding forms of address. See Fourth of July orations, 
speeches at public dinners, &c. 

XVI. A regularly composed address may exemplify, in 
succession, all the following differences of oratorical ac- 
tion : first, the grave, reserved, and quiet style of merely 
expository or explanatory statement, addressed to the un- 
derstanding; second, the stronger and warmer style of 
argumentation, in the discussion of the subject ; third, the 
varied and more poetic manner of illustration and descrip- 
tion ; fourth, the more earnest and vivid style of personal 
and hortatory appeal, in which the eloquence of action 
reaches its highest effect. Patrick Henry's war speech 
furnishes an example in point. 

USE OF THE LEFT HAND. 

Rule. — The use of the left hand in gesture, is some- 
times appropriate, in alternation, for contrast or corre- 
spondence to the action of the right; but only in the 



52 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

language of strong feeling or high-wrought imagination, 
or in a long and formal antithesis. 

It is appropriate in addressing a distinct portion of an 
audience, on the speaker's left hand. 

But as, in all the ordinary actions of life, we give the 
preference to the right hand, and seldom use the left, so 
should it be in speaking. 

USE OF BOTH HANDS. 

Rule. — Expansive thought, and warm appeals to a 
whole audience, justify and require the use of both hands, 
as an indispensable condition of natural and eloquent ad- 
dress. But such action is proper only in such circum- 
stances, and those which are exemplified under the rules 
for gesture, in a preceding page. 

ANALYSIS OF GESTURE. 

The careful study and practice of the following examples, will 
enable the pupil to avoid common errors in the modes and appli- 
cation of gesture, and to attain a correct, significant, and appro- 
priate style. 

The common faults of gesture, are feeble, confined, and 
angular movements and positions of the arm, or an habit- 
ual swaying and sweeping of the arm, and sawing of the 
air, without regard to any just distinction in the character 
of action. Gesture belongs only to emphatic expression, 
and therefore requires energy in its movement. Energy, 
in turn, demands freedom ; and freedom requires space 
for motion. But these should never be exaggerated. 

The common gestures of conversation, being addressed 
to a few persons close by the speaker, are too small, 
slight, and angular, for the style of public speaking. 
The orator, to appeal to all the individuals of a large au- 
dience, must raise and extend his arm freely and fully. 
The gestures of the public speaker, may, from their large 
and forcible style, be easily analyzed and subjected to 
study. 

A full gesture, such as is required in declamation and 
recitation, resolves itself into three parts, or a first, second, 
and third movement, as follows : the 1st raises the arm, — 
straight, but not rigid, — to a level with the shoulder, and 
in a line oblique from the speaker's face, — with the hand 
edsrewise: the 2<\ raises the forearm, and draws the hand 



GESTURE. 53 

toward the temples, without letting the elbow sink ; the 
3d extends the whole arm in whatever line — downward, 
upward, or outward — the gesture of a given sentiment 
requires. 

KEY TO THE ANALYSIS OF GESTURE. 

There are three principal lines of gesture, and on these 
all others are founded : 1st, descending, in which the 
hand descends as low as the level of the hip-joint; 2d, 
horizontal, on a level with the shoulder ; 3d, ascending, 
the hand rising as high as the head. See Frontispiece. 

Tracing a line directly in front of the speaker's shoul- 
der, the three principal lines, already mentioned, would 
yield, in succession, the gestures denominated " descend- 
ing in front," " horizontal in front," " ascending in front." 

Tracing a line obliquely from the speaker's face, the 
principal lines would give the gestures " descending- 
oblique," " horizontal oblique," " ascending oblique." 

Tracing a line extended from the speaker's side, we ob- 
tain the gestures "descending extended," "horizontal 
extended," " ascending extended." 

Tracing a line oblique backward from the speaker's body, 
we have the gestures " descending oblique, backward," 
" horizontal oblique, backward," " ascending oblique, 
backward."* 

The initial letters of these definitions, would run thus, when 
used for the convenience of abbreviation : D. f. ("Descending 
in front") H. f. ( " Horizontal in front,") &c. D. o. (" De- 
scending oblique") &c. D. e. ("Descending extended," ) Sec. 
D. o. b. (" Descending oblique, backward," ) &c. 

Add to these the following : R. h. (Right hand ;) L. h. (Left 
hand ; B. h. (Both hands ;) s. (supine — palm upward,) p. (prone 
— palm downward,) v. (vertical — upright, palm outward ;) po. 
(pointing;) cli. (clinched,) cla. (clasped.) 

By the use of these initials, we have a system of notation for 
marking as well as analyzing gesture. With the farther aid of 
the following designations, the subsequent applications to exam- 
ples will be fully understood. 

* The practice of free, bold gesture in all these lines, is of the utmost 
value, as a means of giving force, freedom, and grace to action. The 
gestures described should be performed, first, with the right — then, with 
the left hand — then with both hands. They should be repeated also with 
all positions of the hand ; as supine, (back down,) prone, (palm down.) 
vertical, (upright;) also in the form of pointing, and with the hand clinched. 
These gestures, practised thus, become the gymnastics of action for train 
ing the body to pliancy and power of expression. 



54 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Dots, preceding italics, indicate the 1st or the 1st and 2d 
preparatory movement before defined. Dots, following italics, 
intimate that whatever position of the hand was assumed in the 
italicized words, is continued unchanged. 

Italics indicate the emphatic word or words, and consequently 
the 3d or consummating motion of the gesture, as before 
analyzed. 

The grave accent ( v ) indicates, where there is more than one 
emphatic and italicized word, the exact place on which the gest- 
ure falls, in coincidence with the accented syllable of the most 
emphatic word of a clause or sentence. This is the only true 
place for the consummation or completing of a gesture. Before 
or after this, it falls out of time, and awkwardly. 

An upright mark ( | ) indicates the suspension or delay of the 
arm, after the completion of the preparatory movement, and 
before the consummating motion. In solemn style, this sus- 
pense is long ; in lively style, short. 

SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LINES AND MOVEMENTS OF GESTURE. 

I. — Gestures performed with One Hand. 
R. H. S. D. f (Right hand supine,* Descending in 
front,) R. F. A. L. s. (Right foot advanced, Left support- 
ing.*) 

THE STYLE OF A STRONG PARTICULAR ASSERTION. 

Example. — " This sentiment I will maintain j with the 
last breath of hfe."f 

\H.f — Personal Appeal. — R.f s. 
" I appeal | to you, sir, for your decision." 

A.f — Appeal to Gtod. — L.f. s. 
" I appeal | to the great Searcher of hearts, for the 
truth of what I utter." 

D. o. — General Assertion. — L.f s. 
" Of all mistakes | none are so fatal as those which we 
incur through prejudice." 

* See preceding Key to the Analysis of Gesture. 

t In practice, each gesture should be repeated till it can be performed 
easily, naturally, and gracefully. It is of great service, as a discipline to 
the arm and hand, to repeat the action, several times, in dumb show, with- 
out the words, so as to bend the attention more closeh^on the gesture, and 
thus acquire the power of executing it more easily and expertly. 

t Refer to the Key, as explained. The right hand supine," and right 
foot advanced, continue till otherwise directed. 



GESTURE. 55 

H. o. — General Thought. — L.f s. 

" Truth, honor, | justice, were his motives." 

A. o. — Sublimity of Association. — R.f s. 
" Fix your eye | on the prize of a truly noble ambition — 
the consciousness of excellence." 

D. e. — Rejection. — L.f s. 
" Away with an idea so absurd !" 

H. e. — Description. — R.f s. 
" The breeze of morning | wafted incense on the air." 

Negation. — L.f s. 
" Not as the conqueror comes, 
They, the true-hearted, came." 
A. e. — Triumph. — R.f. s. 
" In dreams through camp and court he bore | 
The trophies of a conqueror." 
D. o. b. — Vehement Rejection. — R.f s. 
"Away with an idea so abhorrent to humanity!" 

H. o. b. — Allusion to Remoteness in time and 

SPACE. L.f S. 

" Search the records of the remotest antiquity for a 
parallel to this, and you will search them in vain." 
A. o. b. — Boldest style of Triumph. — L.f s. 
" His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rang their proud hurrali /" 

R. H. P. 

D.f — Repression, (special or particular.) — R.fs. 

" Put down the unworthy feeling !" 

H.f — Restraining, (special or particular.) — R.f s. 
" Restrain the unhallowed propensity." 

[A. f seldom used.] 
D. o. — Repression, (generalized.) — R.fs. 
" Let every one who would merit the Christian name | 
repress such a feeling." 



56 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

H. o. — Restraining (generalized.) — R.f s. 
' I charge you as men and as Christians | to lay a re- 
straint on all such dispositions !" 

A. o. — Deprecation. — L.f s. 

"Ye gods, | withhold your vengeance !" 

D. e. — Superposition. — L.f s. 
" The hand of affection | shall smooth the turf for your 
last pillow !" 

D. e. — Cessation. — L.f. s. 
** The tumult of life | has ceased." 

H. e. — Superposition. — L.f. s. 
" The cloud of adversity | threw its gloom | over all 
his prospects." 

A. e. — Superposition. — L.f s. 
" So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud 
That swathes, | as with a purple shroud, 
Benledi's distant hill." 

R. H. V. 
[D.f not in use.] 
H.f — Repulsion. — R.f s. 
" Arise ! meet | and repel your foe !" 

A.f — Deprecation : (strong.) — L.f s. 
" Forbid it, Almighty God !" 

H. o. — Defence. — L.f s. 
" He generously extended the arm of power to ward 
off the blow." 

A. o. — Deprecation, (moderate.) — L.f s. 
" May Heaven | avert the calamity !" 

H. c. — Aversion. — L.f s. 
" Out of my sight, thou serpent !" 



GESTURE. 57 

H. o. b. — Extreme Aversion. — L.f. s. 

" Thou tempting fiend, avaunt /" 

Repeat all the preceding gestures with the left hand, for the 
sake of discipline ; as the left is occasionally used in gesture, 
and the command of it is important to freedom and force, in 
speaking. 

II.— Gestures performed with Both Hands. 
B. H. S. 
D.f. — Deposition. — L.f s. 
" All personal feeling he deposited oh the altar of his 
country's good." 

H. f — Entreaty. — R. f. s. 
" Listen, I implore you, to the voice of reason !" 

A.f — Devotional Address. — R.f s. 
" Hail / universal Lord." 

D. o. — Relinquishment. — L.f s. 
" Every personal advantage | he surrendered to the 
common good." 

H. o. — Welcoming. — R.f s. 
" Welcome ! once more, to your early home !" 

A. o. — Hailing. — R.f s. 

" Hail ! holy Light !" 

D. e. — Renunciation. — L.f s. 
11 1 utterly renounce all the supposed advantages of such 
a station." 

H. e. — Universality. — L.f. s. 
" They yet slept | in the wide abyss of possibility ." 

A. e. — Exultation. — R.f s. 
" J ov>j°y> \ forever !" 



B. H. P. 
D.f — Superposition. — R.f s. 

Lie tightly on him, earth— his step was light on thee !" 
C 2 



58 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

H.f. — Blessing. — R.f s. 
" Now, all the blessings of a glad father | light on 

thee!" 

A.f — Adoration. — R-f s. 
" Blessed be Thy name ! O Lord, Most High !" 

D. o. — Humility. — L.f s. 
" We are in Thy sight | but as the worms of the dust/" 

H. o. — Blessing, (generalized.) — R.f s. 
" May the grace of G-od abide with you forever /" 

A. o. — Superposition. — L.f s. 
" And let the triple rainbow rest | 
O'er all the mountain tops." 

D. e. — Renunciation. — L.f s. 
" Here let the tumults of passion | forever chase!" 

H. e. — Diffusion. — R.f s. 

" Spread wide around the heaven-breathing calm !" 

A. e. — Elevation and Expansion. — L.f. s. 

u Heaven | opened wide her ever-during gates." 

B. H. V. 
[The descending line not in use.] 

H.f — Terror. — L.f s. (Position very wide.) 
" Hence, hideous spectre !" 

A.f — Deprecation. — L.f s. 

" Avert, O God, the frown of thy indignation !" 

H. o. — Aversion. — L.f s. 

"Far from | our hearts be so inhuman a feeling!" 

A. o. — Aversion, (elevated.) — L.f s. 

"Let me not | name it to you, ye chaste stars !" 

H e. — Dispersion. — L.f s. 

" And if the night 
Have gathered aught of evil or concealed, | 
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark !" 



GESTURE. 



59 



A. e. — Dispersion, (more forcible.) — R.fi s. 
" Melt and dispel, ye spectre doubts, that roll 
Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul !" 
The pointing finger is used, in any line, for emphatic 
distinction and close discrimination. 

Example. — " Yon trembling coward, who forsook his 

master." 
The shut hand, (clinched,) in any line, for violent anger, 
fierce or stern determination. 

Example. — " And dar'st thou, then, 
To beard the lion in his den, — 

The Douglas in his hall 1 
And hop'st thou thence unscathed to go X 
No ! by Saint Bride of Bothwell, — no !" 
The fingers apart indicate horror, or extreme fear. 
" Avaunt! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee! 
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; — 

Hence ! horrible shadow, 
Unreal mockery, hence !" 

An upward sweep of gesture sometimes takes place in 
astonishment, or in an arousing call, or summons. Thus, 
B. h. v. — h. o. — " Awake ! B. h. v. A. e. — Arise ! or be 
forever fallen !" 

The feeble rising and dropping of one hand, express 
regret ; — of both, — grief. Thus, R. h. p. H. o. — " Ah ! 
unhappy man !" — B. h. A. o. — " Farewell ! a long fare- 
well to all my greatness !" 

APPLICATION OF THE PRINCIPLES OF GESTURE. 

The preceding analysis will enable the pupil to apply the 
principles of gesture to the expression of the various forms of 
emotion. The application may be conveniently exemplified by 
turning back to the classification of emotions, given under the 
Rules on Attitude, and tracing the rules of gesture which, in 
every instance, are applicable in conjunction with those of at- 
titude. 

Rule I.* — Solemnity usually is expressed by the still- 
ness of the hands and the upturning of the eyes : Anima- 

* The numbering of the Rules, in this and the following- instances, re- 
fers the pupil to the corresponding Rule on Attitude, so as to enable him 
to apply action and attitude in conjunction. 



60 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

tion is expressed by the activity of the hands as well as of 
the whole body. Awe and Reverence raise the hands and 
eyes — the hands vertical, and hold them long still and 
fixed. Arrogance and Presumption erect the whole body, 
and jerk up the head : they incline, also, to impetuous and 
scornful action in the form of repulsive waves of the 
hand, haughty expression of features, the curling lip, ex- 
panded nostrils, and downward glancing of the eye.* 

II. — Grief is expressed in the alternate drooping and 
upturning of the head, and the alternate raising and drop- 
ping of the hands : Joy clasps and raises the hands, or 
throws them up widely apart. — Repeat, as before, ex- 
amples under Rule II. on Attitude. 

III. — Timidity, Constraint, and Cowardice, draw in the 
hands, and keep them close to the body, and half turn 
away the head, and keep the eyes down. Alarm and 
Terror are expressed by staring eyes, expanded nostrils, 
open mouth, head withdrawn, arms projected rigidly, on 
a line level with the shoulder, hands vertical, and directed 
toward the exciting object, as if to keep it off, fingers 
stiffened and outspread. — Repeat the examples under 
Rule III. on Attitude, and the one at the middle of p. 59. 

IV. — Anger is expressed by a fierce frown, a darting 
eye, set teeth, clinched hands, the body in the posture of 
attack. — Repeat the examples under Rule IV. on Atti- 
tude. 

V. — Indifference, by a partially averted face, dull as- 
pect, folded or dangling arms, hands loose : Earnestness, 
by open eyes, expanded nostrils, mouth slightly open, 
body leaning forward, arms and hands in energetic action. 
Aversion — face averted, frowning ; lips curled, and parted ; 
nostrils expanded, hands and arms repellent: Eagerness 
and Ardor — head and body inclining forward, eyes open 
and sparkling, mouth slightly open with a partial smile, 
nostrils moderately expanded, arms and hands reaching 
forward, as if to grasp an object : Hatred and Detesta- 
tion — frowning, fierce, flashing eye; distended nostrils; set 
teeth; wide-parted, grinning lips; head withdrawn ; body 
braced ; arms stiffened ; hand clinched. — Repeat the ex- 
amples under Rule V. on Attitude. 

* The pupil should now repeat the language and attitude of the emo- 
tions comprehended under the rale, and add the gesture. This he can do, 
by turning back, and reading, or, rather, reciting, without book, the ex- 
tracts given as examples under Rule I. on Attitude. 



GESTURE. 61 

VI. — Entreaty and Supplication — eye-brows slightly 
raised, earnest eye, nostrils slightly expanded, mouth open 
and curving slightly downward, head and body much in- 
clined forward, arms projected, hands wide open or clasp- 
ed. — Repeat the examples under Rule VI. on Attitude. 

VII. — Admiration, — 1. placid brow, smiling eye afid 
mouth, hea*d slightly inclining backward, body erect or 
leaning slightly backward, arms and hands expanded or 
elevated, or both ; — 2. earnest and ardent look, mingled 
with tender and smiling expression, head and body in- 
clining eagerly forward: Disgust and Loathing — fierce 
frown, flashing eye, set teeth, mouth drawn down, and 
lips parted, face and body averted, arm and hand thrown 
out repulsively, toward the object of the emotion : Love 
and Tenderness — mild and soft, but animated and ardent 
eye, gentle smile, head and body inclining forward, arms 
and hands extended toward, or embracing the object of 
the emotion. — Repeat the examples under Rule VII. 

VIII. — Revenge, — 1. fierce frown, glaring eye, set 
teeth, mouth drawn down, lips wide apart, head and body 
erect, arm thrown violently downward, hand clinched; — 
2. stern and fierce look, as before, though less malignant 
in the expression of the mouth, head and body leaning 
eagerly forward, arm raised and thrown violently forward, 
hand clinched. — Repeat the examples under ftule VIII. 

IX. — Pride, Haughtiness, and Scorn — eyebrow alter- 
nately raised and frowning, the eye glancing from head to 
foot of the object of emotion, wide-distended nostrils, lips 
curled and projected, head thrown alternately downward 
and backward, body drawn upward and backward, arms 
braced and hands clinched, but held downward : Humil- 
ity — calm brow, eyelids down, head sinking, body bent, 
arm and hand waving downward, or drawn inward, and 
laid upon the chest, over the heart. Defiance, — 1. brow 
fiercely knit, eye glaring, nostrils expanded, lips curled, 
head and body erect, or inclining backward, arms braced, 
and hands clinched, but held down ; — 2. countenance as 
before, but with more violence than scorn, in its expres- 
sion, head and body inclining forward, and approaching 
the object of the emotion, arm thrown violently forward, 
hand clinched or pointing: Submission and Resignation 
— as in Humility, except the arms and hands, which wave 
downward, or are both placed on the heart : Meekness 



62 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

— as in Humility, except the eyes and head, which turn 
upward, and the hands and arms, which remain actionless 
by the side : Tranquillity, Calmness, and Composure — 
serene brow and eye ; all features, and the whole frame, 
in repose ; action slight, gentle, and waving. — Repeat ex- 
amples under Rule IX. 

The analysis of attitude and action, is an exercise particularly 
interesting to boys, and one in which they easily make rapid 
progress. They have, in this branch of elocution, a natural ad- 
vantage over adults, owing to the quick susceptibility of the 
young mind, in all which regards imaginative action and effect. 

Teachers whose school arrangements will permit them to give 
close attention to the department of declamation, will find it a 
highly useful exercise to superintend their pupils in analyzing 
pieces, previous to having them committed to memory. The 
elocutionary analysis now proposed, has been exemplified in the 
preceding paragraphs. Applied to miscellaneous pieces, it would 
be conducted as follows : 

1. Let the teacher, or an intelligent, advanced pupil, read the 
piece aloud, before the class, with full expressive tone. 

2. Let the first sentence of the piece be read, once more, 
by itself; and let one of the pupils mention the emotion which 
prevails in its language, and, from the rules in this manual, state 
the attitude and action which properly belong to it, and, conse- 
quently, to the most prominent parts of the sentence. Let the 
pupil then exemplify the style, by repeating the sentence with 
the appropriate gesture. 

3. &c. Let the second and all following sentences be ana- 
lyzed and practised in the same way. 



PART II. 

PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 



Exercise I. 
Ambition, false and true. — Anonymous. 

[An example of serious and earnest* style, in tone and gesture.] 
I would not wear the warrior's wreath, 

I would not court his crown ; 
For love and virtue sink beneath 

His dark and vengeful frown. 

I would not seek my fame to build 

On glory's dizzy height ; — 
Her temple is with orphans filled ; 

Blood soils her sceptre bright. 

I would not wear the diadem, 

By folly prized so dear ; 
For want and woe have bought each gem, 

And every pearl 's a tear. 

I would not heap the golden chest, 

That sordid spirits crave ; 
For every grain, (by penury cursed,) 

Is gathered from the grave. 

No ; let my wreath unsullied be, 

My fame be virtuous youth ; 
My wealth be kindness, charity 

My diadem be truth ! 



Exercise II. 
Nature's Gentleman. — Eliza Cook. 

[An example of lively expression, in voice and action.] 
Whom do we dub as gentleman 1 — the knave, the fool, the brute — 
If they but own fall tithe of gold, and wear a courtly suit! 
The parchment scroll of titled line — the ribbon at the knee, 
Can still suffice to ratify and grant such high degree : 

* The characteristic expression, attitudes, and action of the style of eveiy 
exercise, may be reviewed, by reverting to the descriptions given of them, 
in preceding pages. 



64 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

But Nature, with a matchless band, sends forth her nobly born, 
And laughs the paltry attributes of wealth and rank to scorn ; 
She moulds with care a spirit rare, half human, half divine, 
And cries, exulting, " Who can make a gentleman like mine 1" 

She may not spend her common skill about the outward part, 

Bat showers her beauty, grace, and light upon the brain and heart; 

She may not choose ancestral fame his pathway to illume — 

The sun that sheds the brightest day may rise from mist and gloom: 

Should fortune pour her welcome store and useful gold abound, 

He shares it with a bounteous hand, and scatters blessings round; 

The treasure sent is rightly spent, and sei*ves the end designed, 

When held by Nature's gentleman — the good, the just, the kind. 

He turns not from the cheerless home where sorrow's offspring dwell ; 

He'll greet the peasant in his hut — the culprit in his cell; 

He stays to hear the widow"s plaint of deep and mourning love ; 

He seeks to aid her lot below, and prompt ber faith above : 

Tbe orphan child — the friendless one — the luckless, or the poor, 

Will never meet his spurning frown, or leave his bolted door; 

His kindred circles all mankind — his country all the globe — 

An honest name his jewelled star, and truth his ermine robe. 

He wisely yields his passions up to reason's firm control ; 

His pleasures are of crimeless kind, and never taint the soul; 

He may be thrown among the gay and reckless sons of life, 

But will not love the revel scene, or heed the brawling strife. 

He wounds no breast with jeer or jest, yet bears no honeyed tongue : 

He 's social with the gray-haired one, and merry with the young: 

He gravely shares the council speech, or joins the rustic game, 

And shines as Nature's gentleman, in everyplace the same. 

No haughty gesture marks his gait, no pompous tone his word, 
No studied attitude is seen, no palling nonsense heard; 
He'll suit his bearing to the hour — laugh, listen, learu, or teach; 
With joyous freedom in his mirth, and candor in his speech : 
He worships God with inward zeal, and serves him in each deed ; 
He would not blame another's faith, nor have one martyr bleed : 
Justice and Mercy form his code — he puts his trust in Heaven ; 
His prayer is, "If the heart mean well, may all else be forgiven!" 

Though few of such may gem the earth, yet such rare gems there are, 
Each shining in his hallowed sphere, as virtue's polar star; 
Though human hearts too oft are found all gross, corrupt, and dark, 
Yet — yet some bosoms breathe and burn, lit by Promethean spark: 
There are some spirits nobly just, unwarped by pelf or pride, 
Great in the calm, but greater still when dashed by adverse tide : 
They hold the rank no king can give — no station can disgrace ; 
Nature puts forth her gentlemen, and monarchs must give place. 



Exercise III. 
Casabianca. — Mrs. Hemans. 

[An example of firm and animated expression of courage, in voice, atti- 
tude, and gesture.] 

The boy stood *on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled ; 

* The rhetorical pause here needs close attention, in order to avoid the 
common fault, "The boy etoodon." 



PIECES 1'OR PRACTICE. 65 

The flame that lit the battle's wreck, 
Shone round him o'er the dead ; 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm ; — 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud, though child-like form. 

The flames rolled on — he would not go 

Without his father's word ; — 
That father, faint in death, below, 

His voice no longer heard. 

He called aloud, " Say, father, say 

If yet my task is done !" — 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 

Unconscious of his son. 

"Speak, father!" once again he cried, 

" If I may yet be gone !" — 
And but the booming shots replied, 

And fast the flames rolled on. 

Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair, 
And looked from that lone post of death, 

In still, yet brave despair, 

And shouted but once more aloud, 

" My father ! must I stay 1" 
"While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, 

The wreathing fires made way. 

They wrapt the ship in splendor wild ; 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child, 

Like banners in the sky. 

There came a burst of thunder sound ; — 

The boy — oh ! where was he ] 
Ask of the winds, that far around 

With fragments strewed the sea, — 

With mast and helm, and pennon fair, 

That well had borne their part : 
But the noblest thing that perished there 

Was that young faithful heart. 



66 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 



Exercise IV. 
The Savoyard's Return. — H. K. White. 

[The recitation of the following piece should exemplify the fvll voice and 
lively gestures of joy, animation, and delight.] 

Oh ! yonder is the well-known spot, 

My dear, my long-lost native home ! 
Oh ! welcome is yon little cot, 

Where I shall rest, no more to roam! 
Oh! I have travelled far and wide, 

O'er many a distant foreign land ; 
Each place, each province, I have tried, 

And sung and danced my saraband.* 
But all their charms could not prevail 
To steal my heart from yonder vale. 

Of distant climes the false report, 

It lured me from my native land ; 
It bade me rove ; my sole support 

My cymbals and my saraband. 
The woody dell, the hanging rock, 

The chamoist skipping o'er the heights; 
The plain adorned with many a flock, 

And, oh ! a thousand more delights, 
That grace yon dear beloved retreat, 
Have backward won my weary feet. 

Now safe returned, with wandering tired, 

No more my little home I'll leave ; 
And many a tale of what I've seen 

Shall while away the winter's eve. 
Oh ! I have wandered far and wide, 

O'er many a distant foreign land ; 
Each place, each province, I have tried, 

And sung and danced my saraband. 
But all their charms could not prevail 
To steal my heart from yonder vale. 

* Pronounced, saraband — (a kind of dance.) 

t Sham'oy — (an animal of the goat kind.) The word, when used as the 
name of the animal, is properly pronounced as marked : when used as an 
adjective, to designate a sort of leather, it is pronounced shammy. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 67 

Exercise V. 
The Removal. — Anonymous. 

[Humorous audi playful expression in voice and action.] 

A nervous old gentleman, tired of trade, 
By which, though— it seems — he a fortune had made, 
Took a house 'twixt two sheds, at the skirts of the town, 
Which he meant, at his leisure, to buy and pull down. 

This thought struck his mind, when he viewed the estate ; 
But alas ! when he entered he found it too late ; 
For in each dwelt a smith :— a more hard-working two 
Never doctored a patient, or put on a shoe. 

At six in the morning, their anvils, at work, 
Awoke our good squire, who raged like a Turk ; 
"These fellows," he cried, "such a clattering keep, 
That I never can get above eight hours of sleep." 

From morning till night they keep thumping away,— 
No sound but the anvil the whole of the day ; 
His afternoon's nap, and his daughter's new song, 
Were banished and spoiled by their hammer's dingdong. 

He offered each vulcan to purchase his shop ; 
But no ! they were stubborn, determined to stop : 
At length, (both his spirits and health to improve,) 
He cried, "I'll give each fifty guineas to move." 

" Agreed !" said the pair, " that will make us amends." 
" Then come to my house, and let us part friends ; 
You shall dine ; and we'll drink on this joyful occasion, 
That each may live long in his new habitation." 

He gave the two blacksmiths a sumptuous regale, — 
He spared not provisions, his wine, nor his ale ; 
So much was he pleased with the thought that each guest 
Would take from him noise, and restore to him rest. 

"And now," said he, " tell me, where mean you to move — 
I hope to some spot where your trade will improve !" 
"Why, sir," replied one, with a grin on his phiz, 
" Tom Forge moves to my shop, and I move to his I" 



68 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Exercise VI. 
Spring. — Anonymous . 

[Tone and action of jot/.] 

The Spring — she is a blessed thing ! 

She is the mother of the flowers; 
She is the mate of birds and bees, 
The partner of their revelries, — 

Our star of hope through wintry hours. 

The merry children, when they see 

Her coming, by the budding thorn, 
They leap upon the cottage floor, 
They shout beside the cottage door, 
And run to meet her night and morn. 

They are soonest with her in the woods — 

Peeping the withered leaves among, 
To find the earliest fragrant thing 
. That dares from the cold earth to spring, 
Or catch the earliest wild-bird's song. 

The little brooks run on in light, 
As if they had a chase of mirth ; 

The skies are blue, the air is balm ; 

Our very hearts have caught the charm 
That sheds a beauty o'er the earth. 

The aged man is in the field, 

The maiden 'mong her garden flowers , 

The sons of sorrow and distress 

Are wandering in forgetfulness 

Of wants that fret and care that lowers. 

She comes with more than present good — 

With joys to store for future years ; 
From which, in striving crowds apart, 
The bowed in spirit, bruised in heart, 
May glean up hope with grateful tears. 

Up ! — let us to the fields away, 

And breathe the fresh and balmy air : 

The bird is building in the tree ; 

The flower has opened to the bee ; 

And health, and love, and peace are there. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 69 

Exercise VII. 
The Little Philosopher. — Day. 

[Style of lively, familial* dialogue, talking- tones and easy gesture.] 

Mr. L. (looking at the boy and admiring his ruddy 
cheerful countenance.) I thank you, my good lad ! you 
have caught my horse very cleverly. What shall I give 
you for your trouble ] (putting his hand into Ms loochet.) 

Boy. I want nothing, sir. 

Mr. L. Don't you] so much the better for you. Few 
men can say as much. But pray what were you doing in 
the field « 

B. I was rooting up weeds, and tending the sheep that 
are feeding on the turnips, and keeping the crows from 
the corn. 

Mr. L. And do you like this employment 1 

B. Yes, sir, very well, this fine weather. 

Mr. L. But had you not rather play? 

B. This is not hard work ; it is almost as good as play. 

Mr. L. Who sent you to work ] 

B. My father, sir. 

Mr. L. Where does he live 1 

B. Just by, among the trees, there sir. 

Mr. L. What is his name ? 

B. Thomas Hurdle, sir. 

Mr. L. And what is yours % 

B. Peter, sir. * 

Mr. L. How old are you % 

B. I shall be eight at Michaelmas. 

Mr. L. How long have you been out in this field 1 

B. Ever since six in the morning, sir. 

Mr. L. And are you not hungry 1 
- B. Yes, sir. I shall go to my dinner soon. 

Mr. L. If you had sixpence now, what would you do 
with it % 

B. I don't know; I never had so much in my life. 

Mr. L. Have you no playthings 1 

B. Playthings ! what are they ] 

Mr. L. Such as balls, ninepins, marbles, tops, and 
wooden horses. 

B. No, sir ; but our Tom makes footballs to kick in 
cold weather, and we set traps for birds ; and then I have 



70 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

a jumping-pole and a pair of stilts to walk through the 
dirt with ; and I had a hoop, but it is broken. 

Mr. L. And do you want nothing else ? 

B. No. 1 have hardly time for those ; for I always ride 
the horses to the field, and bring up the cows, and run to 
the town on errands, and that is as good as play, you know. 

Mr. L. "Well, but you could buy apples or gingerbread 
at the town, I suppose, if you had money. 

B. Oh ! — I can get apples at home ; and as for ginger- 
bread, I don't mind it much, for my mother gives me a 
piece of pie, now and then, and that is as good. 

Mr. L. Would you not like a knife to cut sticks ? 

B. I have one — here it is — brother Tom gave it me. 

Mr. L. Your shoes are full of holes — don't you want a 
better pair % 

B. I have a better pair for Sundays. 

Mr. L. But these let in water. 

B. I don't care for that. 

Mr. L. Your hat is all torn too. 

B. I have a better hat at home ; but I had as lief have 
none at all, for it hurts my head. 

Mr. L. What do you do when it rains] 

B. If it rains very hard, I get under the hedge till it is 
over. 

Mr. L. What do you do, when you are hungry before 
it is time to go home ? 

B. I sometimes eat a raw turnip. 

Mr. L. But if there are none? 

B. Then I do as well as I can ; I work on, and never 
think of it. 

Mr. L. Are you not dry sometimes, this hot weather 1 

B. Yes; but there is water enough. 

Mr. L. Why, my little fellow, you are quite a philoso- 
pher ! 

B. Sir? 

Mr. L. I say you are a philosopher ; but I am sure you 
do not know what that means. 

B. No, sir — no harm I hope. 

Mr. L. No, no ! Well, my boy, you seem to want 
nothing at all; so I shall not give you money to make you 
want any thing. But were you ever at school? 

B. No, sir ; but father says I shall go after harvest. 

Mr. L. Yon will want books then. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 71 

B. Yes sir ; the boys have all a spelling-book, and a 
Testament. 

Mr. L. Well, then, I will give you them — tell your fa- 
ther so, and that it is because I thought you a very good, 
contented boy. — So now go to your sheep again. 

B. I will, sir. — Thank you. 

Mr. L. Good-by, Peter. 

B. Grood-by, sir. 



Exercise VIII. 
The Pioneer. — Brainard. 

[Patlietic expression.] 

Far away from the hill-side, the lake and the hamlet, 
The rock and the brook, and yon meadow so gay ; 
From the footpath, that winds by the side of the streamlet, 

From his hut and the grave of his friend far away ; 
He is gone where the footsteps of man never ventured, 
Where the glooms of the wild tangled forest are centered, 
Where no beam of the sun or the sweet moon has entered, 
No bloodhound has roused up the deer with his bay. 

He has left the green valley, for paths where the bison 
Roams through the prairies, or leaps o'er the flood ; 

Where the snake in the swamp sucks the deadliest poison, 
And the cat of the mountains keeps watch for its food. 

But the leaf shall be greener, the sky shall be purer, 

The eye shall be clearer, the rifle be surer, 

And stronger the arm of the fearless endurer, 

That trusts naught but Heaven, in his way through the wood. 

Light be the heart of the poor lonely wanderer, 

Firm be his step through each wearisome mile, 
Far from the cruel man, far from the plunderer, 
. Far from the track of the mean and the vile ; 
And when death, with the last of its terrors, assails him, 
And all but the last throb of memory fails him, 
He'll think of the friend, far away, that bewails him, 
And light up the cold touch of death with a smile. 

And there shall the dew shed its sweetness and lustre, 

There for his pall shall the oak leaves be spread ; 
The sweetbrier shall bloom, and the wild grape shall cluster, 

And o'er him the leaves of the ivy be shed. 
There shall they mix with the fern and the heather, 
There shall the young eagle shed its first feather, 
The wolf with his wild cubs shall lie there together, 
And moan o'er the spot where the hunter is laid. 



72 THE JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Exercise IX. 
Address to General Lafayette. — E. Eyerett. 

{Animated and ardent expression.] 

Welcome, friend of our fathers, to our shores ! Happy- 
are our eyes that behold those venerable features. En- 
joy a triumph, such as never conqueror nor monarch en- 
joyed — the assurance that, throughout America, there is 
not a bosom which does not beat with joy and gratitude 
at the sound of your name. You have already met and 
saluted, or will soon meet, the few that remain, of the ar- 
dent patriots, prudent counsellors, and brave warriors, 
with whom you were associated in achieving our liberty. 
But you have looked round in vain for the faces of many, 
who would have lived years of pleasure on a day like this, 
with their old companion in arms, and brother in peril. 

Lincoln, and Greene, and Knox, and Hamilton, are 
gone ; the heroes of Saratoga and Yorktown have fallen, 
before the only foe they could not meet. Above all, the 
first of heroes, and of men, the friend of your youth, the 
more than friend of his country, rests in the bosom of the 
soil he redeemed. On the banks of his Potomac, he lies 
in glory and peace. 

You will revisit the hospitable shades of Mount Vera on, 
but him, whom you venerated as we did, you will not 
meet at its door. His voice of consolation, which reached 
you in the Austrian dungeons, cannot now break its 
silence, to bid you welcome to his own roof. But ihe 
grateful children of America will bid you welcome, in his 
name. Welcome, thrice welcome, to our shores ; and 
whithersoever, throughout the limits of the Continent, your 
course shall take you, the ear that hears you, shall bless 
you, the eye that sees you, shall bear witness to you, and 
every tongue exclaim, with heartfelt joy, " Y/elcome, 
welcome, Lafayette !" 



Exercise X. 
The Trooper's Dirge. — Anon. 

[Pathos.] 

To horse — to horse — the bugles call, 
And sadly swells the mournful strain, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 73 

That warns us to the burial 

Of one who ne'er shall mount again. 

His course is run — his fame is won — 
For well he reined as free a steed 
As ever bore to daring deed, 

When charging hosts came spurring on. 

His course is run — his battles done — 
He died as aye he wished to die, — 

The well-fought field was fairly won, 
And Victory pealed her clarion nigh ; 

Nor on his lip of beauteous pride, 
When high in hope, he rode among 
The brave, the noble, and the young, 

Wreathed such a smile as when he died. 

Stern eyes became, as woman's, weak, 

Nor scorned to soil the clustering gold 
That floated, o'er his marble cheek, 

With tears that would not be controlled. 
For though none bolder struck with brand, 

When boiling veins were up and wild, 

Yet never even the gentlest child 
Had kinder heart or freer hand. 

To horse — to horse — no more I weep ; 

His high career was run full fast, — 
Thus on the battle-field to sleep 

His long, lone sleep of death at last. 
No more I weep ; — but far away 

Are deep blue eyes to weep in vain — 

Fair lips not soon to smile again, — 
And hearts to wail this bitter day. 



Exercise XI. 
The Battle of Blenheim. — Southey. 

[Animation and earnestness, in conversational style. 

It was a summer evening ; — 
Old Kaspar's work was done ; 

And he, before his cottage door, 
Was sitting in the sun ; 

And by him, sported on the green, 

His little grandchild, Wilhelmine, 



74 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

She saw her brother, Peterkin, 
Roll something large and round, 

Which he beside the rivulet, 
In playing there, had found ; 

She came to ask what he had found, 

That was so large, and smooth, and round. 

Old Kaspar took it from the boy, 

Who stood expectant by ; 
And then the old man shook his head, 

And, with a natural sigh, — 
" Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, 
"Who fell in the great victory !" 

" I find them in the garden, 
For there's many hereabout ; 

And often, when I go to plough, 
The ploughshare turns them out. 

For many thousand men," said he, 

"Were slain in that great victory." 

"Now tell us what 'twas all about," 

Young Peterkin, he cries ; 
And little Wilhelmine looks up, 

With wonder-waiting eyes ; 
"Now tell us all about the war, 
And what they killed each other for." 

"It was the English," Kaspar cried, 
" Who put the French to rout ; 

But what they killed each other for 
I could not well make out. 

But every body said," quoth he, 

"That 'twas a famous victory. 

" My father lived at Blenheim then, 

Yon little stream hard by ; 
They burned his dwelling to the ground, 

And he was forced to fly ; 
So with his wife and child he fled, 
Nor had he where to rest his head. 

"With fire and sword the country round 

Was wasted far and wide ; 
And many a hapless mother then, 

And helpless infant died. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 75 

But things like that, you know, must be 
At every famous victory. 

"Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won, 

And our good Prince Eugene," — 
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" 

Said little Wilhelraine. 
"Nay — nay — my little girl," quoth he, 
" It was a famous victory. 

"And every body praised the duke, 

Who this great fight did win." 
"But what good came of it at last?" 

Quoth little Peterkin. 
"Why, — I cannot tell," — said he, 
"But 'twas a famous victory." 



Exercise XII. 
Vision of Belsliazzar. — Byron. 

[Awe and sublimity.'] 

The king was on his throne, 

The satraps thronged the hall ; 
A thousand bright lamps shone 

O'er that high festival. 
A thousand cups of gold, 

In Judah deemed divine — 
Jehovah's vessels — hold 

The godless heathen's wine ! 

In that same hour and hall, 

The fingers of a hand 
Came forth against the wall, 

And wrote as if on sand : 
The fingers of a man, — 

A solitary hand 
Along the letters ran, 

And traced them like a wand. 

The monarch saw, and shook, 
And bade no more rejoice ; 

All bloodless waxed his look, 
And tremulous his voice. 



76 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

"Let the men of lore appear, 
The wisest of the earth, 

And expound the words of fear, 
Which mar our royal mirth." 

Chaldea's seers are good, 

But here they have no skill ; 
And the unknown letters stood 

Untold and awful still. 
And Babel's men of age 

Are wise and deep in lore ; 
But now they were not sage, 

They saw — but knew no more. 

A captive in the land, 

A stranger and a youth, 
He heard the king's command, 

He saw that writing's truth : 
The lamps around were bright, 

The prophecy in view ; 
He read it on that night, — 

The morrow proved it true. 

" Belshazzar's grave is made, 

His kingdom passed away ; 
He, in the balance weighed, 

Is light and worthless clay. 
The shroud his robe of state, 

His canopy the stone ; 
The Mede is at his gate ! 

The Persian on his throne !" 



Exercise XIII. 

Economy. — Walcot. 
[Style of lively and humorous conversation.] 
Economy's a very useful broom, 
Yet should not ceaseless hunt about the room 

To catch each straggling pin to make a plum. 
Too oft economy's an iron vice, 
That squeezes e'en the little frames of mice, 
That peep with fearful eyes, and ask a crumb. 

Proper economy's a comely thing ; 
Good in a subject — better in a king ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 77 

Yet, pushed too far, it dulls each finer feeling — 
Most easily inclined to make folks mean ; 
Inclines them, too, to villany to lean, 

To overreaching, 'perjury, and stealing. — 
E'en when the heart should only think of grief, 
It creeps into the bosom like a thief, 
And swallows up the affections, all so mild ; — 
Witness the Jewess and her only child. 

Poor Mistress Levi had a luckless son, 

Who, rushing to obtain the foremost seat, 

In imitation of the ambitious great ; 
High from the gallery, ere the play began, 

He fell all plump into the pit, 

Dead in a minute as a nit : 
In short, he broke his pretty Hebrew neck, 
Indeed — and very dreadful was the wreck ! 

The mother was distracted, raving, wild, 

Shrieked, tore her hair, embraced and kissed her child, 

Afflicted every heart with grief around. — 
Soon as the shower of tears was somewhat past, 
And moderated the hysteric blast, 

She cast about her eyes in thought profound ; 
And being with a saving knowledge blest, 
She thus the play-house manager addressed : 

" Slier, I am de moder of de poor Chew lad, 
Dat meet misfortune here so bad ; 
Sher, I must haf de shilling back, you know, 
Ass Moses haf nat see de show." 



Exercise XIV. 

Morning Thoughts. — Mary Howitt. 
[An example of the tones and action oijoy and cheerfulness.] 
The summer sun is shining 

Upon a world so bright ! 
The dew upon each grassy blade ; 
The golden light, the depth of shade, 
All seem as they were only made 

'To minister delight. 

From giant trees, strong branched, 
And all their veined leaves ; 



78 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

From little birds that madly sing ; 
From insects fluttering on the wing ; 
Ay, from the very meanest thing, 
My spirit joy receives. 

I think of angel voices 

When thus the birds I hear ; — 
Of that celestial City, bright 
With jacinth, gold, and chrysolite — 
When, with its blazing pomp of light, 
The morning doth appear ! 

I think of that great River 

That from the Throne flows free; 
Of weary pilgrims on its brink, 
Who, thirsting, have come up to drink : 
Of that unfailing Stream, I think, 
When earthly streams I see ! 

I think of pain and dying, 
As that which is but naught, 

When glorious morning, warm and bright, 

With all its voices of delight, 

From the chill darkness of the night, 
Like a new life, is brought. 

I think of human sorrow 

But as of clouds that brood 
Upon the bosom of the day, 
And the next moment pass away; 
And, with a trusting heart, I say, 

Thank Grod, all things are good ! 



Exercise XV. 
The Nightingale. — Mrs. Hemans. 

[An example of quiet, deep, and solemn expression, in voice and action.] 
When twilight's gray and pensive hour 
Brings the low breeze, and shuts the flower, 
And bids the solitary star 
Shine in pale beauty from afar ; 

When gathering shades the landscape veil, 
And peasants seek their village dale, 
And mists from river wave arise, 
And dew in every blossom lies ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 79 

When evening's primrose opes, to shed 
Soft fragrance round her grassy bed ; 
When glow-worms, in the wood-walk, light 
Their lamp, to cheer the traveller's sight ; — 

At that calm hour, so still, so pale, • 
Awakes the lonely nightingale ; 
And from a hermitage of shade 
Fills with her voice the forest glade. 

And sweeter far that melting voice, 
Than all which through the day rejoice; 
And still shall bard and wanderer love 
The twilight music of the grove. 

Father in Heaven ! oh ! thus, when day, 
With all its cares, hath passed away, 
And silent hours waft peace on earth, 
And hush the louder strains of mirth ; 

Thus may sweet songs of praise and prayer 
To Thee my spirit's offering bear ; — 
Yon star, my signal, set on high, 
For vesper hymns of piety. 

So may thy mercy and thy power, 
Protect me through the midnight hour ; 
And balmy sleep, and visions blest, 
Smile on my lowly bed of rest ! 



Exercise XVI. 
William Penn. — Duponceau. 

[Serious and earnest style.] 

William Penn stands the first among the lawgivers 
whose names and deeds are recorded in history. Shall 
we compare with him Lycurgus, Solon, Romulus, those 
founders of military commonwealths, who organized their 
citizens in dreadful array against the rest of their species, 
taught them to consider their fellow-men as barbarians, 
and themselves as alone worthy to rule over the earth 1 

What benefit did mankind derive from their boasted 
institutions 1 Interrogate the shades of those who fell in 
the mighty contests between Athens and Lacedsemon, 
between Carthage and Rome, and between Rome and the 
rest of the universe. 



80 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

But see our William Penn, with weaponless hand, 
sitting down peaceably with his followers in the midst of 
savage nations whose only occupation was shedding the 
blood of their fellow-men, disarming them by his justice, 
and teaching them, for the first time, to view a stranger 
without distrust. 

See them bury their tomahawks in his presence, so 
deep that man shall never be able to find them again. 
See them, under the shade of the thick groves of Coaquan- 
nock, extend the bright chain of friendship, and solemnly 
promise to preserve it as long as the sun and moon shall 
endure. 

See him then, with his companions, establishing his com- 
monwealth on the sole basis of religion, morality, and uni- 
versal love, and adopting, as the fundamental maxim of 
his government, the rule handed down to us from Heaven, 
" Glory to God on high, and on earth peace, and good- 
will to men." 

Here was a spectacle for the potentates of the earth to 
look upon — an example for them to imitate. But the 
potentates of the earth did not see ; or, if they saw, they 
turned away their eyes from the sight : they did not hear; 
or, if they heard, they shut their ears against the voice 
which called to them from the wilderness. 

The character of William Penn alone sheds a never- 
fading lustre upon our history. No other state in this 
Union can boast of such an illustrious founder ; none be- 
gan their social career under auspices so honorable to 
humanity. Every trait of the life of that great man, every 
fact and anecdote of those golden times, will be sought 
for by our descendants with avidity; and will furnish 
many an interesting subject for the fancy of the novelist, 
and the enthusiasm of the poet. 



Exercise XVII. 
Landing of the Pilgrims. — Mrs. Hemans. 

[Solemnity and sublimity.] 

The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock-bound coast, 

And the woods against a stormy sky, 
Their giant branches tossed ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 81 

And the heavy night hung dark 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 

Not as the conqueror comes, 

They, the true-hearted, came — 
Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 

And the trumpet that sings of fame ; 

Not as the flying come, 

In silence and in fear — 
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amid the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea; 
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 

To the anthem of the free ! 

The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam, 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared ; — 

This was their welcome home ! 

There were men with hoary hair 

Amid that pilgrim band — 
Why had they come to wither there, 

Away from their childhood's land 1 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
There was manhood's brow serenely high, 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

What sought they thus afar % 

Bright jewels of the mine 1 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war 1 

They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 

Ay, call it holy ground, 

The soil where first they trod ; 
They have left unstained what there they found — 

Freedom to worship God ! 
D 2 



82 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Exercise XVIII. 
The Burial of Arnold* — Willis. 

{Solemnity, pathos, and sublimity .] 

Ye've gathered to your place of prayer, 

With slow and measured tread : 
Your ranks are full, your mates all there — 

But the soul of one has fled. 
He was the proudest in his strength, 

The manliest of ye all ; 
Why lies he at that fearful length, 

And ye around his pall 1 

Ye reckon it in days, since he 

Strode up that foot-worn aisle, 
With his dark eye flashing gloriously, 

And his lip wreathed with a smile. 
Oh ! had it been but told you then, 

To mark whose lamp was dim, 
From out yon rank of fresh-lipped men, 

Would ye have singled him ? 

Whose was the sinewy arm, which flung 

Defiance to the ring 1 
Whose laugh of victory loudest rung, 

Yet not for glorying 1 
Whose heart, in generous deed and thought, 

No rivalry might brook, 
And yet distinction claiming not ] 

There lie? he — go and look ! 

On now — his requiem is done ; 

The last deep prayer is said ; — 
On to his burial, comrades — on, 

With the noblest of the dead ! 
Slow — for it presses heavily; — 

It is a man ye bear ! 
Slow — for our thoughts dwell wearily 

On the noble sleeper there. 

Tread lightly, comrades ! — ye have laid 

His dark locks on his brow — 
Like life — save deeper light and shade : — 

We'll not disturb them now. 

* A member of the senior class in Yale College. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 83 

Tread lightly — for 'tis beautiful, 

That blue veined eyelid's sleep, 
Hiding the eye death left so dull, — 

Its slumber we will keep. 

Rest now ! — his journeying is done, — 

Your feet are on his sod ; — 
Death's chain is on your champion — 

He waiteth here his God ! t 

Ay, — turn and weep,— "'tis manliness 

To be heart-broken here, — 
For the grave of earth's best nobleness 

Is watered by the tear. 



Exercise XIX. 
The Wind in a Frolic. — William Howitt. 

[Animation, gayety, and playful humor.] 
The wind, one morning, sprang up from sleep, 
Saying, " Now for a frolic ! now for a leap ! 
Now for a mad-cap galloping chase ! — 
I'll make a commotion in every place !" 
So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, 
Creaking the signs, and scattering down 
Shutters, and whisking, with merciless squalls, 
Old women's bonnets, and gingerbread stalls. 
There never was heard a much lustier shout, 
As the apples and oranges tumbled about ; 
And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes 
Forever on watch, ran off with each prize. 

Then away to the fields it went blustering and humming; 
And the cattle all wondered what ever was coming. 
It plucked by the tails the grave matronly cows, 
And tossed the colts' manes all over their brows : 
Till, offended at such a familiar salute, 
They all turned their backs, and stood silently mute. 
So on it went, capering, and playing its pranks ; 
Whistling with reeds on the broad river banks ; 
Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, 
Or the traveller grave on the king's highway. 
It was not too nice to hustle the bags 
Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags. 
'Twas so bold, it feared not to play its joke 
With the doctor's wig and the gentleman's cloak. 
Through the forest it roared, and cried gayly, " Now, 
You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow." 






84 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And it made them bow without more ado, 

Or it cracked their great branches through and through. 

Then it rushed, like a monster, o'er cottage and farm, 
Striking their inmates with sudden alarm ; 
And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm. 
There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, 
To see if their poultry were free from mishaps : 
The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, 
And the hens crept to roost, in a terrified crowd ; 
There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on 
Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone. 

But the wind had passed on, and had met, in a lane, 
With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain — 
For it tossed him, and twirled him, then passed ; and he stood 
With his hat in a pool, and his shoe in the mud. 



Exercise XX. 
Loss of the Royal George. — Cowper. 

[Awe, solemnity, pathos, and sublimity.] 

Toll for the brave ! 

The brave that are no more, — 
All sunk beneath the wave, 

Fast by their native shore ! 

Eight hundred of the brave, 
Whose courage well was tried, 

Had made the vessel heel, 
And laid her on her side. 

A land breeze shook the shrouds, 
And she was overset ; — 

Down went the Royal George, 
With all her crew complete. 

Toll for the brave ! 

Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; 
His last sea-fight is fought ; 

His work of glory done. 

It was not in the battle ; 

No tempest gave the shock; 
She sprang no fatal leak ; 

She ran upon no rock. 

His sword was in his sheath ; 
His fingers held the pen, 



m 



PIECE3 FOR PRACTICE. 85 

When Kempenfelt went down, 
With twice four hundred men. 

Weigh the vessel up, 

Once dreaded by our foes ! 
And mingle with our cup 

The tear that England owes. 

Her timbers yet are sound ; 

And she may float again, 
Full-charged with England's thunder, 

And plough the distant main. 

But Kempenfelt is gone, — 

His victories .are o'er ; 
And he and his eight hundred 

Shall plough the wave no more. 



Exercise XXI* 
General Putnam. — Flint. 

General Putnam was a veteran of the Revolution, an 
inhabitant of Marietta, one of the first purchasers and 
settlers in the country. He had moved thither when it was 
one compact and boundless forest, vocal only with the cry 
of owls, the growl of bears, and the death-song of the 
savages. He had seen that forest fall under the axe, — 
had seen commodious, and after that, splendid dwellings, 
rise around him. He had seen the settlement sustain an 
inundation which wafted away the dwellings, and, in some 
instances, the inhabitants in them. The cattle and all the 
improvements of cultivation, were swept away. He had 
seen the country suffer all the accumulated horrors of an 
Indian war. He had seen its exhaustless fertility and its 
natural advantages triumph over all. 

He had seen Marietta make advances toward ac- 
quainting itself with the Gulf of Mexico, by floating off 
from its banks a number of sea vessels built there. He 
had seen the prodigious invention of steam-boats experi- 
mented on the Ohio, and heard their first thunder, as they 
swept by his dwelling. He had survived to see them be- 
come so common, as to be no more objects of curiosity. 

* The analysis of the pieces for expression, in voice and action, is now 
left to be done by the pupil. 



86 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

He had witnessed a hundred boats, laden for New Or- 
leans, pass by in the compass of a few hours. 

He had surrounded his modest, but commodious dwell- 
ing with fruit-trees of his own planting ; and finer, or 
more loaded orchards than his, no country could offer. 
In the midst of rural plenty, and endeared friends, who 
had grown up around him, far from the display of wealth, 
the bustle of ambition and intrigue, the father of the col- 
ony, hospitable and kind without ostentation and without 
effort, he displayed in these remote regions, the grandeur, 
real and intrinsic, of those immortal men, who achieved 
our Revolution. Of these great men, most of whom, and 
General Putnam among the rest, have passed away, there 
seems to have arisen a more just and a more respectful 
estimate. Greater and more unambitious men, no age or 
country has reared. 



Exercise XXII. 

The Falls of Lodore* — Southey. 

How does the water come down from Lodore ] 
Here it conies sparkling, 
And there it lies darkling ; 
Here smoking and frothing, 
Its tumult and wrath in, 
It hastens along, conflicting and strong ; 
Now striking and raging, 
As if a war waging, 
Its caverns and rocks among. 
Rising and leaping, 
Sinking and creeping, 
Swelling and flinging, 
Showering and springing, 
Eddying and whisking, 
Spouting and frisking ; 
Turning and twisting, 
Around and around, 

Collecting, disjecting, 
With endless rebound. 

* The use of this piece, as an exercise in elocution, is to give pliancy 
of voice and action, by the practice of frequent and great changes of man- 
ner, in adaptation to the extraordinary vividness and variety of the ex- 
pression. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 87 

Smiting and fighting, 
In turmoil delighting, 
Confounding, astounding, 
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. 
Receding and speeding, 
And shocking and rocking, 
And darting and parting, 
And threading and spreading, 
And whizzing and hissing, 
And dripping and skipping, 
And hitting and spitting, 
And shining and twining, 
And rattling and battling, 
And shaking and quaking, 
And pouring and roaring, 
And waving and raving, 
And tossing and crossing, 
And running and stunning, 
And hurrying and skurrying, 
And glittering and frittering, 
And gathering and feathering, 
And dinning and spinning, 
And foaming and roaming, 
And hopping and dropping, 
And working and jerking, 
And guggling and struggling, 
And heaving and cleaving, 
And thundering and floundering; 
And falling and brawling and sprawling, 
And driving and riving and striving, 
And sprinkling and crinkling and twinkling, 
And sounding and bounding and rounding, 
And bubbling and troubling and doubling ; 
Dividing and gliding and sliding, 
Grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 
Clattering and battering and shattering ; 
And gleaming and streaming and skimming and beaming, 
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, 
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping, 
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling; 
Retreating and meeting and beating and sheeting, 
Delaying and straying and spraying and playing, 
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 



88 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling ; 
And thumping and bumping and flumping and jumping, 
And thrashing and clashing and flashing and splashing; 
And so never ending, • 
But always descending, 
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, 
All at once and all o'er, 
"With a mighty uproar ; — 
And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 





Exercise XXIII. 
Arnold Winkelried. — Montgomery. 



" Make way for liberty !" he cried, — 
Made way for liberty, and died. 

It must not be : this day, this hour, 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ! 
All Switzerland is in the field, 
She will not fly, she cannot yield — 
She must not fall ; her better fate 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the numbers she could boast; 
But every freeman was a host, 
And felt as though himself were he, 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one indeed ; 
Behold him — Arnold Winkelried ! 
There sounds not to the trump of fame 
The echo of a nobler name. 
Unmarked he stood, amid the throng, 
In rumination deep and long, 
Till you might see, with sudden grace, 
The very thought come o'er his face ; 
And by the motion of his form, 
Anticipate the bursting storm ; 
And, by the uplifting of his brow, 
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how, 

But 'twas no sooner thought than done ! 
The field was in a moment won ; — 
"Make way for liberty !" he cried, 
Then ran with arms extended wide. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 89 

As if his dearest friend to clasp ; — 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp ; 
" Make way for liberty !" he cried, 
Their keen points met from side to side; 
He bowed among them like a tree, 
And thus made way for liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comrades fly ; 
" Make way for liberty !" they cry. 
And through the Austrian phalanx dart, 
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart ; 
While instantaneous as his fall, 
Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all, 
An earthquake could not overthrow 
A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free ; 
Thus death made way for liberty ! 



Exercise XXIV. 
Appeal for the Survivors of the Revolution. — E. Everett. 

Let us not forget, on the return of this eventful day, 
the men, who, when the conflict of counsel was over, 
stood forward in that of arms. Yet let me not, by faintly 
endeavoring to sketch, do deep injustice to the story of 
their exploits.* The efforts of a life would scarce suffice 
to paint out this picture in all its astonishing incidents, in 
all its mingled colors of sublimity and woe, of agony and 
triumph. 

But the age of commemoration is at hand. The voice 
of our fathers' blood begins to cry to us, from beneath the 
soil which it moistened. Time is bringing forward, in 
their proper relief, the men and the deeds of that high- 
souled day. The generation of contemporary worthies is 
gone ; the crowd of the unsignalized great and good dis- 
appears ; and the leaders in war as well as council, are 
seen, in Fancy's eye, to take their stations on the Mount 
of Remembrance. 

They come from the embattled cliffs of Abraham ; they 
start from the heaving sods of Bunker's Hill ; they gather 
from the blazing lines of Saratoga and Yorktown, from 
the blood-dyed waters of the Brandywine, from the dreary 

* Properly accented, exploits'. 



90 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

snows of Valley Forge, and all the hard-fought fields of 
the war. With all their wounds and all their honors, 
they rise and plead with us, for their brethren, who sur- 
vive ; and bid us, if, indeed, we cherish the memory of 
those who bled in our cause, to show our gratitude, not 
by sounding words, but by stretching out the strong arm 
of the country's prosperity, to help the veteran survivors 
gently down to their graves. 



Exercise XXV. 
Hodge and the Vicar. — Anon. 
Hodge, a poor, honest country lout, 

Not overstocked with learning, 
Chanced, on a summer's eve, to meet 
The vicar home returning. 

" Ah ! Master Hodge," the vicar cried, 

" What ! still as wise as ever? 
The people in the village say 

That you are wondrous clever." 

" Why, Master Parson, as to that, 

I beg you'll right conceive me ; 
I do na' brag ; but yet I know 

A thing or two, believe me." 

" We'll try your skill," the parson said, 

" For learning what digestion ; 
And this you'll prove, — or right or wrong, — 

By solving me a question : 

" Noah, of old, three babies had, 

Or grown-up children rather ; 
Shem, Ham, and Japhet they were called ; — 

Now who was Japhet's father V 

" Rat it !" cried Hodge, and scratched his head, 

" That doth my wits belabor : 
But, howsomede'er, I'll homeward run, 

And ax Old Giles, my neighbor." 

To Giles he went, and put the case 

With circumspect intention : — 
" Thou fool !" cried Giles, " I'll make it clear 

To thy dull comprehension. , 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 91 

11 Three children has Tom Long, the smith, — 

Or cattle-doctor, rather ; — 
Tom, Dick, and Harry they are called ; 

Now, who is Harry's father ]" 

" Adzooks ! I have it," Hodge replied ; 

" Right well I know your lingo ; 
"Who's Harry's father 1 — stop — here goes — 

Why, Tom Long, smith, by jingo !" 

Away he ran to find the priest, 

With all his might and main, 
Who, with good humor, instant put 

The question once again. 

"Noah, of old, three babies had, 

Or grown-up children, rather ; 
Shem, Ham, and Japhet they were called — 

Now who was Japhet's father V 

" I have it now," Hodge, grinning, cried ; 

" I'll answer like a proctor ; — 
Who's Japhet's father 1 — now I know ; 

Why, Tom Long, smith, the doctor!" 



Exercise XXVI. 
The Philosopher's Scales. — Jane Taylor. 

A monk, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er, 
In the depth of his cell, with its stone-covered floor, 
Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, 
Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain. 
But whether by magic's or alchemy's powers, 
We know not — indeed, 'tis no business of ours, 
Perhaps it was only by patience and care, 
At last that he brought his invention to bear ; 
In Youth 'twas projected, but years stole away, 
And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled and gray ; 
But success is secure, unless energy fails — 
And at length he produced the Philosopher's Scales. 
What were they 1 you ask ; you shall presently see, 
These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea; 
O no ; — for such properties wondrous had they, 
That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh, 



92 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Together with articles small or immense, 
From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense ; 
Naught was there so bulky, but there it could lay, 
And naught so ethereal, but there it would stay. 
And naught so reluctant, but in it must go — 
All which some examples more clearly will show. 

The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire, 
"Which retained all the wit that had ever been there ; 
As a weight he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf, 
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief; 
When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell, 
That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell. 

One time, he put in Alexander the Great, — 
With a garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight; 
And though clad in armor, from sandals to crown, 
The hero rose up, and the garment went down. 

A long row of almshouses, amply endowed, 
By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, 
Next loaded one scale ; while the other was pressed 
By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest; — 
Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce, 
And down, down the farthing- worth came with a bounce. 

Again he performed an experiment rare : — 
A monk with austerities bleeding and bare, 
Climbed into his scale, — in the other was laid 
The heart of our Howard, now partly decayed ; — 
When he found with surprise that the whole of his brother 
Weighed less by some pounds, than the bit of the other. 

By farther experiments, (no matter how,) 
He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough, 
A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the scale, 
Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail — 
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear, 
Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear, — 
A lord and a lady went up at full sail, 
When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale ; — 
Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl, 
Ten counsellors' wigs, full of powder and curl, 
All heaped in one balance, and swinging from thence, 
Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 93 

A first- water diamond, with brilliants begirt, 
Than one good potato, just washed from the dirt : 
Yet not mountains of silver and gold would suffice 
One pearl to outweigh — 'twas the Pearl of great price ! 

Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate, 
With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight, — 
When the former sprung up, with so strong a rebuff, 
That it made a vast rent, and escaped at the roof; — 
When balanced in air, it ascended on high, 
And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky, — 
While the scale with the soul in, so mightily fell, 
That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell. 

MORAL. 

If e'er self-deception o'er reason prevails, 
We pray you to try the Philosopher's Scales ; — 
But if they are lost in the ruins around, 
Perhaps a good substitute thus may be found : 
Let Judgment and Conscience in circles be cut, 
To which strings of Thought may be carefully put ; — 
Let these be made even with caution extreme, 
And Impartiality serve for a beam. 
Then bring those good actions which pride overrates, 
And tear up your motives, in bits for the Weights. 



Exercise XXVII. 

Death of the Old Year. — Tennyson. 

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, 

And the winter winds are wearily sighing: 
Toll ye the church-bell, sad and slow, 
And tread softly and speak low ; 
For the old year lies a-dying. 
Old year, you must not die. 
You came to us so readily, 
You lived with us so steadily, 
Old year, you shall not die. 

He lieth still ; he doth not move ; 

He will not see the dawn of day : — 
He hath no other life above. 
He gave me a friend and a true, true love, 

And the new year will take them away. 



94 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Old year, you must not go : 
So long as you have been with us, 
Such joy as you have seen with us, — 

Old year, you shall not go. 

He frothed his bumpers to the brim ; 

A jollier year we shall not see ; 
But though his eyes are waxing dim, 
And though his foes speak ill of him, 
He was a friend to me. 

Old year, you shall not die. 
We did so laugh and cry with you, 
I've half a mind to die with you, 
Old year, if you must die. 

He was full of joke and jest ; 

But all his merry quips are o'er. 
To see him die, across the waste 
His son and heir doth ride posthaste, 
But he'll be dead before. 
Every one for his own. 
The night is starry and cold, my friends, 
And the new year blithe and bold, my friends, 
Comes up to take his own. 

How hard he breathes ! over the snow 

I heard just now the crowing cock. 
The shadows flitter to and fro ; 
The cricket chirps, — the light burns low, — 
'Tis nearly twelve o'clock. 

Shake hands before you die ! 
Old year, we'll dearly rue for you. 
"What is it we can do for you 1 — 
Speak out before you die. 

His face is growing sharp and thin ; — 

Alack ! our friend is gone, 
Close up his eyes, — tie up his chin,— 
Step from the corpse ; and let him in 
That standeth there alone, 
And waiteth at the door. 
There's a new foot on the floor, my friends, 
And a new face at the door, my friends, 
The new year's at the door. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 95 

Exercise XXVIII. 
Speech of Logan. — Ashe. 

I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered 
Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat ; if ever 
he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. Daring 
the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan re- 
mained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. 

Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen 
pointed as they passed, and said, "Logan is the friend of 
white men /" I had even thought to have lived with you, 
but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last 
spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the 
relations of Logan, not sparing even my women and chil- 
dren. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins 
of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I 
have sought it : I have killed many : I have fully glutted 
my vengeance. 

For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace. But 
do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear ! Lo- 
gan never felt fear ! He will not turn on his heel to save 
his life.— Who is there to mourn for Logan % Not one ! 



Exercise XXIX. 

Dirge for the Beautiful. — Anon. 
Softly, peacefully, 

Lay her to rest ; 
Place the turf lightly 

On her young breast; 
Gently, solemnly, 

Bend o'er the bed 
Where ye have pillowed 

Thus early her head. 

Plant a young willow 

Close by her grave ; 
Let its long branches 

Soothingly wave ; 
Twine a sweet rose-tree 

Over the tomb ; 
Sprinkle fresh buds there ; — 

Beauty and bloom. 



96 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Let a bright fountain, 

Limpid and clear, 
Murmur its music, 

(Smile through a tear,) 
Scatter its diamonds 

Where the loved lies, — 
Brilliant and starry, 

Like angels' eyes. 

Then shall the bright birds 

On golden wing, 
Lingering over, 

Murmuring sing ; 
Then shall the soft breeze 

Pensively sigh, 
Bearing rich fragrance 

And. melody by. 

Lay the sod lightly 

Over her breast ; — 
Calm be her slumbers, 

Peaceful her rest ! 
Beautiful, lovely, 

She was but given, 
A fair bud to earth, 

To blossom in heaven. 



Exercise XXX. 
Selkirk, in his solitude. — Cowper. 
I am monarch of all I survey, — 

My right there is none to dispute : 
From the centre, all round to the sea, 
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 

solitude ! where are the charms 
That sages have seen in thy face ? 

Better dwell in the midst of alarms, 
Than reign in this horrible place. 

1 am out of humanity's reach, 

I must finish my journey alone ; 
Never hear the sweet music of speech ;- 
I start at the sound of my own. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 97 

The beasts that roam over the plain, 

My form with indifference see : 
They are so unacquainted with man, 

Their tameness is shocking to me. 

Society, friendship, and love, 

Divinely bestowed upon man, 
Oh ! had I the wings of a dove, 

How soon would I taste you again ! 
My sorrows I then might assuage 

In the ways of religion and truth ; 
Might learn from the wisdom of age, 

And be cheered by the sallies of youth. 

Religion ! what treasure untold 

Resides in that heavenly word ! 
More precious, than silver or gold, 

Or all that this earth can afford. 
But the sound of the church-going bell 

These valleys and rocks never heard ; 
Never sighed at the sound of a knell, 

Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared. 

Ye winds, that have made me your sport, 

Convey to this desolate shore 
Some cordial endearing report 

Of a land I shall visit no more. 
My friends, do they now and then send 

A wish or a thought after me 1 
Oh ! tell me I yet have a friend, 

Though a friend I am never to see. 

How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 

Compared with the speed of its flight, 
The tempest itself lags behind, 

And the swift- winged arrows of light ; 
When I think of my own native land, 

In a moment I seem to be there ; 
But, alas ! recollection at hand 

Soon hurries me back to despair. 

But the sea fowl is gone to her nest, 

The beast is laid down in his lair ; 
Even here is a season of rest, 

And I to my cabin repair. 
E 



98 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

There's mercy in every place ; 

And mercy, — encouraging thought ! — 
Gives even affliction a grace, 

And reconciles man to his lot. 



Exercise XXXI. 

Christmas Eve. — C. Moore. 

'Twas the night before Christmas ; and all through the house 

Not a creature was stirring, — not even a mouse ; 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 

In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there ; 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, 

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ; 

And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, 

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap : 

When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter, 

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter, 

Away to the window I flew like a flash, 

Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash, — 

The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow, 

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,— 

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came ; 

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name : 

"Now, Dasher ! now, Dancer ! now, Prancer ! now, Vixen ! 

On, Comet! on, Cupid ! on, Dunder and Blixeni 

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, 

Now dash away ! dash away ! dash away, all !" 

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, 

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, 

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, 

The prancing and pawing of each tiny hoof. 

As I drew iu my head, and was turning around, 

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, 

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot ; 

A bundle of toys was flung on his back, 

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 

His eyes how they twinkled ! his dimples how merry ! 

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 99 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow ; 
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. 
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf; 
And I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself: 
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. 
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
And filled all the stockings, — then turned with a jerk, 
And laying his finger aside of his nose, 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. 
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle ; 
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, 
" Merry Christmas to all ! and to all a good-night !" 



Exercise XXXII. 

The Ship-Builders. — J. G-. Whittier. 
The sky is ruddy in the east, 

The earth is gray below j 
And, spectral in the river mist, 

Our bare, white timbers show. 
Up ! — let the sounds of measured stroke 

And grating saw begin : 
The broad-axe to the gnarled oak, 

The mallet to the pin ! 

Up ! — up ! — in nobler toil than ours 

No craftsmen bear a part : 
We make of Nature's giant powers 

The slaves of human Art. 
Lay rib to rib, and beam to beam, 

And drive the trunnels free ; 
Nor faithless joint, nor yawning seam, 

Shall tempt the searching sea ! 

"Where'er the keel of our good ship 

The sea's rough field shall plough, — 
Where'er her tossing spars shall drip 

With salt spray caught below, — 
That ship must heed her master's beck, 

Her helm obey his hand, 
And seamen tread her reeling deck 

As if they trod the land. 



100 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Her oaken ribs the vulture-beak 

Of Northern ice may peel, — 
The sunken rock and coral peak 

May grate along her keel : 
And know we well the painted shell 

We give to wind and wave, 
Must float, the sailor's citadel, 

Or sink, the sailor's grave ! 

Ho ! — strike away the bars and blocks, 

And set the good ship free ! 
Why lingers on these dusty rocks 

The young bride of the sea ] 
Look ! — how she moves adown the grooves 

In graceful beauty now ! 
How lowly on the breast she loves 

Sinks down her virgin prow ! 

God bless her, wheresoe'er the breeze 

Her snowy wing shall fan, 
Aside the frozen Hebrides 

Or sultry Hindostan ! 
Where'er, in mart or on the main, 

With peaceful flag unfurled, 
She helps to wind the silken chain 

Of commerce round the world ! 

Speed on the ship ! But let her bear 

No merchandize of sin, 
No groaning cargo of despair, 

Her roomy hold within. 
No Lethean drug for Eastern lands, 

Nor poison draught for ours, 
But honest fruits of toiling hands 

And Nature's sun and showers. 

Be hers the prairie's golden grain, 

The desert's golden sand, 
The clustered fruits of sunny Spain, 

The spice of Morning-land. 
Her pathway on the open main 

May blessings follow free, 
And glad hearts welcome back again 

Her white sails from the sea ! 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 101 

Exercise XXXIII. 

The Launch. — Anon. 

The beautiful vessel has kissed the wave ; 
And she rides on the billow, as fair and brave 
As the saving Ark, when it ploughed the deep, 
Where a world was lying in endless sleep. 

She goes from the land of the mighty and free, — 
In the land of the mighty her port shall be ; 
And the name which she bears shall long be known, 
As the spot which Liberty calls her own. 

May favoring breezes her canvass swell, 
And the breath of heaven her sails propel, 
And let not the spirit of tempests dare 
To tread the ocean when she is there. 

Success and fortune her path pursue, 
As she rides o'er the face of the billowy blue ; 
And swift through its foam may her proud keel go, 
Like the arrow that flies from a bended bow. 

With her white wings spread like a bird of night 
At the voice of the wind will she take her flight ; 
And her starry banner shall wake to the breeze, 
And shine in its beauty, the flag of the seas. 



Exercise XXXIV. 
The Mariners. — Park Benjamin. 

How cheery are the mariners, — 

Those lovers of the sea ! 
Their hearts are like its yesty waves, 

As bounding and as free. 
They whistle when the storm-bird wheels, 

In circles round the mast ; 
And sing when, deep in foam, the ship 

Ploughs onward to the blast. 

What care the mariners for gales 1 

There's music in their roar, 
When wide the berth along the lee, 

And leagues of room before. 



102 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Let billows toss to mountain heights, 

Or sink to chasms low ; 
The vessel stout will ride it out, 

Nor reel beneath the blow. 

With streamers down and canvass furled, 

The gallant hull will float 
Securely as on inland lake 

A silken-tasseled boat ; 
And sound asleep some mariners, 

And some with watchful eyes, 
Will fearless be of dangers dark, 

That roll along the skies. 

God keep these cheery mariners ! 

And temper all the gales, 
That sweep against the rocky coast, 

To their storm-shattered sails ; 
And men on shore will bless the ship 

That could so guided be, 
Safe in the hollow of His hand, 

To brave the mighty sea ! 



Exercise XXXV. 

Grandiloquence. — Anon. 
We live in a truly fortunate age and country, when and 
where every citizen and every event is set forth and cele- 
brated by a magnificent speech. These ready speech- 
makers seem determined to do what Milton implored of 
his muse : 

" What is low, raise and support." 

We are told by the newspapers, those ready vehicles 
of all bladders of wind, that at a " mowing-match," lately 
got up in New Hampshire, the " Reverend Mr." Some- 
body, delivered an " elegant and appropriate address." 
Now, this is nothing to the style in which we do things in 
Massachusetts. We could relate a score of instances, if 
we pleased, where as fine speeches as ever were blown, 
were made on far less occasions than the one above men- 
tioned. But we content ourselves with a single instance. 

There is, in a village, on one side or other of the Con- 
necticut River, a pound, for the imprisonment of such un- 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 103 

ruly four-footed animals as render themselves obnoxious 
to the civil authority. This same pound having lost off 
one of the hinges of the gate, it became a matter of pru- 
dence to replace it by a new one. The making and put- 
ting on of a single hinge, on a gate of no great magnitude, 
is not a thing necessarily requiring a great deal of noise, 
saving and excepting what is made by the hammer and 
the anvil. But this only shows more fully the vast per- 
fection to which the sublime art of speech-making is al- 
ready brought in this happy land. 

On this occasion the Honorable Spouter Puffer was 
unanimously chosen to deliver the address. And the 
able, and perfect manner, in which he did the thing, 
shows, clearer than noonday, the wisdom of the choice. 
The carpenter had taken the hinge in his hand, and was 
about nailing it fast to the gate, when the honorable gen- 
tleman arose, and after alluding to the importance of the 
occasion, his utter inability to do any thing like justice to 
it, and craving the indulgence of the audience, he thus 
proceeded : 

" When I look about me, and behold this vast empire 
of our Republic, extending from sea to sea, and from 
ocean to ocean — when I contemplate the growing condi- 
tion of this state — when I reflect on the magnitude of this 
country — when I consider the ineffable importance of this 
here town, with its ' dense and enlightened population/ 
and especially, when I turn my eyes to the wide circum- 
ference of the pound before us, I am lost in admiration of 
the magnitude of our destinies. 

" Europe is no more to us, than a filbert-shell to a meet- 
ing-house. If any one doubts that we have arrived to the 
highest pinnacle of arts, let him come forward to-day, and 
view the perfection of this hinge, pounded, as it has been, 
on the anvil of Independence, and beaten into shape by 
the hammer of Wisdom. On this hinge turns the ' fate 
of empires' — on this hinge depends the starvation of 
horsesf and the bringing into subjection the flesh of unruly 
beef. Here they may chew the bitter cud of nonentity ! 
— here they may learn to prize the inestimable privileges 
of being impounded in a land of liberty ; here — " 

But we will not now pursue the subject any farther, as 
it is utterly impossible to do any thing like justice to the 
eloquence of the honorable gentleman, without quoting 



104 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

the whole speech ; which, as it would occupy nine closely 
printed columns, and we understand it is to be laid before 
the public in a pamphlet form, we dismiss for the present, 
just observing, that the honorable gentleman surpassed 
all his former examples of eloquence ; and such was the 
attention and stillness of an audience, composed of at least 
twenty persons, that the walls of the pound might have 
fallen down, " slam bang !" without once being heard. 



Exercise XXXVI. 
The Two Robbers. — Dr. Aikin. 

Alexander the Great, in his tent. A man with a fierce 
countenance, chained and fettered, brought before him. 

Alexander. What! art thou the Thracian robber, of 
whose exploits I have heard so much? 

Robber. I am a Thracian, and a soldier. 

Alexander. A soldier ! — a thief, a plunderer, an assassin ! 
the pest of the country ! I could honor thy courage ; but 
I must detest and punish thy crimes. 

Robber. What have I done of which you can com- 
plain % 

Alexander. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority ; 
violate4 the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring 
the persons and properties of thy fellow-subjects'? 

Robber. Alexander, I am your captive — I must hear 
what you please to say, and endure what you please to 
inflict. But my soul is unconquered ; and if I reply at 
all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man. 

Alexander. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take 
the advantage of my power, to silence those with whom I 
deign to converse ! 

Robber. I must, then, answer your question by another. 
How have you passed your life % 

Alexander. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell 
you. Among the brave, I have been the bravest ; among 
sovereigns, the noblest ; among conquerors, the mightiest. 

Robber. And does not Fame speak of me, too % Was 
there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band 1 Was 
there ever — but I scorn to boast. You yourself know 
that 1 have not been easily subdued. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 105 

Alexander. Still, what are you but a robber — a base, 
dishonest robber % 

Robber. And what is a conqueror 1 Have not you, too, 
gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair 
fruits of peace and industry ; plundering, ravaging, killing 
without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatia- 
ble lust for dominion 1 All that I have done to a single 
district, with a hundred followers, you have done to 
whole nations, with a hundred thousand. If I have strip- 
ped individuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I 
have burned a few hamlets, you have desolated the most 
nourishing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is 
then the difference, but that as you were born a king, and 
I a private man, you have been able to become a mightier 
robber than 1 1 t 

Alexander. But if I have taken like a king, I have given 
like a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded 
greater. I have cherished arts, commerce, and philoso- 
phy- 

Robber. I, too, have freely given to the poor, what I 
took from the rich. I have established order and dis- 
cipline among the most ferocious of mankind ; and have 
stretched out my protecting arm over the oppressed. I 
know, indeed, little of the philosophy you talk of; but I 
believe neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world 
for the mischief we have done it. 

Alexander. Leave me. — Take off his chains ; and use 
him well. — Are we, then, so much alike ] Alexander to 
a robber 1 — Let me reflect. 



Exercise XXXVII. 
Seneca Lake. — Percival. 

On thy fair bosom, silver lake ! 

The wild swan spreads his snowy sail ; 
And round his breast the ripples break, 

As down he bears before the gale. 

On thy fair bosom, waveless stream ! 

The dipping paddle echoes far, 
And flashes in the moonlight gleam, 

And bright reflects the polar star. 
E 2 



106 . JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

The waves along thy pebbly shore, 

As blows the north wind, heave their foam, 

And curl around the dashing oar, 
As late the boatman hies him home. 

How sweet, at set of sun, to view 
Thy golden mirror spreading wide, 

And see the mist of mantling blue 

Float round the distant mountain's side. 

At midnight hour, as shines the moon, 
A sheet of silver spreads below ; 

And swift she cuts at highest noon, 

Light clouds, like wreaths of purest snow. 

On thy fair bosom, silver lake ! 

Oh ! I could ever sweep the oar, 
When early birds at morning wake, 

And evening tells us toil is o'er. 



Exercise XXXVIII. 

Greek Welcome to tlie Swallow.* — Anon. 

The swallow is come, 
The swallow is come ! 
Oh ! fair are the seasons, and light 
Are the days that she brings 
"With her dusky wings, 
And her bosom snowy white. 
And wilt thou not dole 

From the wealth that is thine, 
The fig, and the bowl 
Of rosy wine, 
And the wheaten meal, and the basket of cheese, 
And the omelet cake, which is known to please 
The swallow that comes to the Rhodian land 1 
Say, must we be gone with an empty hand, 
Or shall we receive 
The gift that we crave 1 
If thou give, it is well ; 
But beware, if thou fail, 

* The boys of Rhodes used to celebrate the season of the swallow's 
return with the above verses. Troops of these juvenile revellers used to 
sing their song from door to door, and demanded, in return, food for a 
swallow which they carried about with them. 






PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 107 

Nor hope that we'll leave thee, — 
Of all we'll bereave thee : 
We'll bear off the door 
Or its post from the floor, 
Or we'll seize thy young wife, who is sitting within, 
Whose form is so airy, so light, and so thin ; 
And as lightly, be sure, will we bear her away. 
Then look that thy gift be ample to-day, 
And open the door, open the door ! 
To the swallow open the door ! 
No graybeards are we, 
To be foiled in our glee, 
But boys who will have our will 

This day, 
But boys who will have our will. 



Exercise XXXIX. 
The Sound of the Sea. — Mrs. Hemans. 

Thou art sounding on, thou mighty sea, 

Forever and the same ! 
The ancient rocks yet ring to thee, 

Whose thunders naught can tame. 

Oh ! many a glorious voice is gone, 

From the rich bowers of earth, 
And hushed is many a lovely one 

Of mournfulness or mirth. 

The Dorian flute that sighed of yore 

Along thy wave, is still ; 
The harp of Judah peals no more 

On Zion's awful hill. 

And Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord 

That breathed the mystic tone ; 
And the songs at Rome's high triumphs poured, 

Are with her eagles flown. 

And mute the Moorish horn, that rang 

O'er stream and mountain free, 
And the hymn the leagued crusaders sang, 

Hath died in Galilee. 



108 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

But thou art swelling on, thou deep, 
Through many an olden clime, 

Thy billowy anthem, ne'er to sleep 
Until the close of time. 

Thou liftest up thy solemn -voice 

To every wind and sky ; 
And all our earth's green shores rejoice 

In that one harmony. 

It fills the noontide's calm profound, 
The sunset's heaven of gold ; 

And the still midnight hears the sound, 
E'en as when first it rolled. 

Let there be silence, deep and strange, 

Where sceptred cities rose ! 
Thou speak'st of One who doth not change ;- 

So may our hearts repose. 



Exercise XL. 

Speech of the Scythian Ambassadors to Alexander the 
Great. — Aikin. 

If your person were as vast as your desires, the whole 
world would not contain you. — Your right hand would 
touch the east, and your left the west, at the same time. 
You grasp at more than you are equal to. From Europe 
you reach Asia ; from Asia you lay hold on Europe. 
And if you should conquer all mankind, you seem dis- 
posed to wage war with woods and snows, with rivers 
and wild beasts, and to subdue nature. 

But, have you considered the usual course of things ? 
Have you reflected that great trees are many years in 
growing to their height, but are cut down in an hour 7 
It is foolish to think of the fruit only, without considering 
the height you have to climb, to come at it. Take care, 
lest, while you strive to reach the top, you fall to the 
ground, with the branches you have already laid hold on. 

The lion, when dead, is devoured by ravens ; and rust 
consumes the hardness of iron. There is nothing so strong, 
but it is in danger from what is weak. It will, therefore, 
be your wisdom to take care how you venture beyond 
your reach. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 109 

Besides, what have you to do with the Scythians ; or 
the Scythians with you 1 We have never invaded Mace- 
donia ; why should you attack Scythia 1 We inhabit vast 
deserts, and pathless woods, where we do not want to 
hear the name of Alexander. We are not disposed to 
submit to slavery ; and we have no ambition to tyrannize 
over any nation. 

That you may understand the genius of the Scythians, 
we present you with a yoke of oxen, an arrow, and a 
goblet. We use these respectively, in our commerce 
with friends, and with foes. We give to our friends the 
corn, which we raise by the labor of our oxen. With the 
goblet we join in pouring out drink-offerings to the gods ; 
and with the arrows we attack our enemies. 

You pretend to be the punisher of robbers, and are 
yourself the greatest robber the world ever saw. You 
have taken Lydia ; you have seized Syria ; you are mas- 
ter of Persia ; you have subdued the Bactrians, and at- 
tacked India. All this will not satisfy you, unless you lay 
your greedy and insatiable hands upon our flocks and 
herds. 

How imprudent is your conduct ! You grasp at riches, 
the possession of which only increases your avarice. You 
increase your hunger, by that which should produce sa- 
tiety ; so that the more you have, the more you desire. 



Exercise XLI. 
How to tell Bad News. — Anon. 

Mr. G. Ha ! steward, how are you, my old boy 1 how 
do things go on at home 1 

Steward. Bad enough, your honor ; the magpie's dead. 

Mr. G. Poor Mag ! so he's gone. How came he to die % 

Steward. Over-ate himself, sir. 

Mr. G. Did he, indeed 1 — a greedy dog ! Why, what 
did he get that he liked so well 1 

Steward. Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse-flesh. 

Mr. G. How came he to get so much horse-flesh ? 

Steward. All your father's horses, sir. 

Mr. G. What ! are they dead, too ? 

Steward. Ay, sir ; they died of over-work. 

Mr. G. And why were they over- worked, pray? 



110 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Steward. To carry water, sir. 

Mr. G. To carry water ! and what were they carrying 
water for 1 

Steward. Sure, sir, to put out the fire. 

Mr. G. Fire ! what fire % 

Steward. Oh ! sir, your father's house is burned down 
to the ground. 

Mr. G. My father's house burned down ! and how 
came it on fire 1 

Steward. I think, sir, it must have been the torches. 

Mr. G. Torches ! what torches 1 

Steward. At your mother's funeral. 

Mr. G. My mother dead ! 

Steward. Ah ! poor lady, she never looked up after it. 

Mr. G. After what 1 

Steward. The loss of your father 

Mr. G. My father gone too 1 

Steward. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as 
soon as he heard of it. 

Mr. G. Heard of what % 

Steward. The bad news, sir, an't please your honor. 

Mr. G. What ! more miseries ! more bad news 1 

Steward. Yes, sir ; your bank has failed, and your 
credit is lost; and you are not worth a shilling in the 
world. I made bold, sir, to come to wait on you about 
it ; for I thought you would like to hear the news ! 



Exercise XLII. 
The Grave of the Indian Chief. — W. C. Bryant. 

They laid the corse of the wild and brave 

On the sweet fresh earth of the new-made grave, 

On the gentle hill, where wild weeds wave, 
And flowers and grass were flourishing. 

They laid within the peaceful bed, 
Close by the Indian chieftain's head, 

His bow and arrows ; and they said 

That he had found new hunting-grounds, 

Where bounteous Nature only tills 

The willing soil ; and o'er whose hills, 

And down beside the shady rills, 
The hero roams eternally. 






PIECES FOR PRACTICE. Ill 

And these fair isles to the westward lie, 

Beneath a golden sunset sky, 
Where youth and beauty never die, 

And song and dance move endlessly. 

They told of the feats of his dog and gun, 
They told of the deeds his arm had done ; 

They sung of battles lost and won, 
And so they paid his eulogy. 

And o'er his arms, and o'er his bones, 

They raised a simple pile of stones ; 
Which, hallowed, by their tears and moans, 

Was all the Indian's monument. 

And since the chieftain here has slept, 
Full many a winter's winds have swept, 

And many an age has softly crept 
Over his humble sepulchre. 



Exercise XLIII. 
Old Ironsides.- — O. W. Holmes. 
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

L,ong has it waved on high ; 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar ; — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more. 

Her deck, — once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, — 
No more shall feel the victor's tread, 

Or know the conquered knee ; — 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

Oh ! better that her shattered hulk 
Should sink beneath the wave ; 

Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 
And there should be her grave : 



112 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Nail to the mast her holy flag, 
Set every threadbare sail ; 

And give her to the god of storms, 
The lightning and the gale ! 



Exercise XLIV. 
A Grecian Fable. — Foote. 

Once on a time, a son and sire, we're told,— 

The stripling tender and the father old, — 

Purchased a donkey at a country fair, 

To ease their limbs, and hawk about their ware ; 

But as the sluggish animal was weak, 

They feared, if both should mount, his back would break. 

Up got the boy, the father plods on foot, 

And through the gazing crowd he leads the brute ; — 

Forth from the crowd the graybeards hobble out, 

And hail the cavalcade with feeble shout : 

" This the respect to feeble age you show"? 

And this the duty you to parents owe 1 

He beats the hoof, and you are set astride ; 

Sirrah ! get down, and let your father ride !" 

As Grecian lads were seldom void of grace, 

The decent, duteous youth resigned his place. 

Then a fresh murmur through the rabble ran ; 

Boys, girls, wives, widows, all attack the man, 

" Sure ne'er was brute so void of nature ! 

Have you no pity for the pretty creature ? 

To your own baby can you be unkind 1 

Here, Luke, — Bill, — Betty, — put the chi]d behind !" 

Old dapple next the clowns' compassion claimed, 

" 'Tis passing strange, those boobies be n't ashamed, — 

Two at a time upon a poor dumb beast ! 

They might as well have carried him, at least." 

The pair, still pliant to the partial voice, 

Dismount, and bear the brute. — Then what a noise !— 

Huzzas — loud laughs, low gibe and bitter joke, 

From the yet silent sire these words provoke : 

" Proceed, my boy, nor heed their farther call, 

Vain his attempt who strives to please them all !" 









PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 113 

♦ 

Exercise XLV. 
The Bended Bow. — Mrs. Hemans. 

There was heard the sound of a coming foe, 
There was sent through Britain a bended bow ; 
And a voice was poured on the free winds far, 
As the land rose up at the sound of war : 

" Heard ye not the battle horn 1 
Reaper ! leave thy golden corn ! 
Leave it for the birds of heaven ; 
Swords must flash, and spears be riven : 
Leave it for the winds to shed, — 
Arm ! ere Britain's turf grow red !" 

And the reaper armed, like a freeman's son ; 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 

" Hunter ! leave the mountain chase ! 
Take the falchion from its place ! 
Let the wolf go free to-day ; 
Leave him for a nobler prey ! 
Let the deer ungalled sweep by, — 
Arm thee ! Britain's foes are nigh !" 

And the hunter armed, ere the chase was done ; 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 

" Chieftain ! quit the joyous feast ! 
Stay not till the song hath ceased : 
Though the mead be foaming bright, 
Though the fire gives ruddy light, 
Leave the hearth and leave the hall, — 
Arm thee ! Britain's foes must fall !" 

And the chieftain armed, and the horn was blown ; 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 

" Prince ! thy father's deeds are told, 
In the bower and in the hold ! 
Where the goatherd's lay is sung, 
Where the minstrel's harp is strung ! 
Foes are on thy native sea, — 
Give our bards a tale of thee !" 

And the prince came armed, like a leader's son ; 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 



114 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

" Mother !' stay thou not thy boy! 
He must learn the battle's joy. 
Sister! bring the sword and spear; 
Give thy brother words of cheer ! 
Maiden ! bid thy lover part ; 
Britain calls the strong in heart !" 

And the bended bow and the voice passed on ; 
And the bards made song of a battle won. 



Exercise XL VI. 
David and Goliah. — H. More. 

Goliah. Where is the mighty man of war, who dares 
Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief? 
What victor-king, what general drenched in blood, 
Claims this high privilege % What are his rights ] 
What proud credentials does the boaster bring 
To prove his claim? What cities laid in ashes, 
What ruined provinces, what slaughtered realms, 
What heads of heroes, or what hearts of kings, 
In battle killed, or at his altars slain, 
Has he to boast 1 Is his bright armory 
Thick set with spears, and swords, and coats of mail, 
Of vanquished nations, by his single arm 
Subdued 1 Where is the mortal man so bold, 
So much a wretch, so out of love with life, 
To dare the weight of this uplifted spear 1 
Come, advance ! 
Philistia's gods to Israel's. Sound, my herald, 
Sound for the battle straight ! 

David. Behold thy foe ! 

Gol. I see him not. 

Dav. Behold him here ! 

Gol. Say, where 1 
Direct my sight. I do not war with boys. 

Dav. I stand prepared ; thy single arm to mine. 

Gol. Why, this is mockery, minion ! it may chance 
To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee : 
But tell me who, of all this numerous host, 
Expects his death from me 1 Which is the man, 
Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance ? 

Dav. The election of my sovereign falls on me. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 115 

Gol. On thee ! on thee ! by Dagon, 'tis too much ! 
Thou curled minion ! thou a nation's champion ! 
'Twould move my mirth at any other time ; 
But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy ! 
And tempt me not too far. 

Dav. I do defy thee, 
Thou foul idolater ! Hast thou not scorned 
The armies of the living God I serve 1 
By me he will avenge upon thy head 
Thy nation's sins and thine. Armed with his name, 
Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe 
That ever bathed his hostile spear in blood. 

Gol. Indeed ! 'tis wondrous well ! Now, by my gods ! 
The stripling plays the orator ! Vain boy ! 
Keep close to that same bloodless war of words, 
And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior ! 
Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung, 
Of idle field-flowers % Where thy wanton harp, 
Thou dainty-fingered hero % 

Now will I meet thee, 
Thou insect warrior ! since thou dar'st me thus ! 
Already I behold thy mangled limbs, 
Dissevered each from each, ere long to feed 
The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well ! 
Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks, 
And toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds. 

Dav. Ha ! say'st thou so % Come on, then ! Mark us well. 
Thou com'st to me with sword, and spear, and shield ! 
In the dread name of Israel's God, I come ; 
The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defi'st ! 
Yet though no shield I bring ; no arms, except 
These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook, 
With such a simple sling as shepherds use ; 
Yet all exposed, defenceless as I am, 
The God I serve shall give thee up a prey 
To my victorious arm. This day I mean 
To make the un circumcised tribes confess 
There is a God in Israel. I will give thee, 
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk, 
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone ; 
The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts 
Shall spread the plains of Elah ; till Philistia, 
Through all her trembling tents and flying bands, 



116 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed ! 
I dare thee to the trial ! 

Gol. Follow me. 
In this good spear I trust. 

Dav. I trust in Heaven ! 
The God of battles stimulates my arm, 
And fires my soul with ardor not its own. 



Exercise XL VII. 
The Destruction of Sennacherib. — Byron. 
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold-, 
And his cohorts were gleaming with purple and gold ; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset was seen ; 
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, 
That host, on the morrow, lay withered and strown. 

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still ! 

And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, 
But through them there rolled not the breath of his pride ; 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 



Exercise XLVIII. 
TJie Pilgrim Fathers. — John Pierpont. 
The pilgrim fathers — where are they % 
The waves that brought them o'er 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 117 

Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray, 

As they break along the shore ; 
Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day, 

When the May-flower moored below, 
"When the sea around was black with storms, 

And white the shore with snow. 

The mists that wrapped the pilgrim's sleep, 

Still brood upon the tide ; 
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, 

To stay its waves of pride. 
But the snow-white sail, that he gave to the gale, 

When the heavens looked dark, is gone ; — 
As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, 

Is seen and then withdrawn. 

The pilgrim exile — sainted name ! 

The hill, whose icy brow 
Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, 

In the morning's flame burns now ; 
And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night, 

On the hill-side and the sea, 
Still lies where he laid his houseless head ; — 

But the pilgrim — where is he 1 

The pilgrim fathers are at rest : 

When summer's throned on high, 
And the world's warm breast is in verdure drest, 

Go, stand on the hill where they lie. 
The earliest ray of the golden day 

On that hallowed spot is cast ; 
And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, 
■: Looks kindly on that spot last. 

The pilgrim spirit has not fled — 

It walks in noon's broad light ; 
And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 

With the holy stars by night. 
It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 

And shall guard this ice-bound shore, 
Till the waves of the bay, where the May-flower lay, 

Shall foam and freeze no more. 



118 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Exercise XLIX. 
Lament of Alpin. — Macpherson. 

My tears, O Reyno ! are for the dead — my voice for 
the inhabitants of the grave. Tall thou art on the hill ; 
fair among the sons of the plain. — But thou shalt fall like 
Morar ; and the mourner shall sit on thy tomb. The 
hills shall know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in the hall 
unstrung. 

Thou wert swift, O Morar ! as a roe on the hill, — ter- 
rible as a meteor of fire. — Thy wrath was as the storm, — 
thy sword, in battle, as lightning in the field. — Thy voice 
was like a stream after rain — like thunder on distant hills. 
— Many fell by thy arm, — they were consumed in the 
flames of thy wrath. 

But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was 
thy brow ! Thy face was like the sun after rain — like the 
moon in the silence of night — calm as the breast of the 
lake, when the loud wind is hushed into repose. — Narrow 
is thy dwelling now — dark the place of thine abode. 
With three steps I compass thy grave, O thou who wast 
so great before ! Four stones, with their heads of moss, 
are the only memorial of thee. A tree, with scarce a 
leaf — long grass whistling in the wind — mark to the hunt- 
er's eye, the grave of the mighty Morar. 

Morar! thou art low indeed: thou hast no mother to 
mourn thee ; no maid with her tears of love : dead is she 
that brought thee forth ; fallen is the daughter of Morglan. 
— Who, on his staff, is this ] who this, whose head is 
white with age, whose eyes are galled with tears, who 
quakes at every step 1 — It is thy father, O Morar ! the 
father of no son but thee. — Weep, thou father of Morar ! 
weep ; but thy son heareth thee not. Deep is the sleep 
of the dead — low their pillow of dust. No more shall he 
hear thy voice — no more awake at thy call. — When shall 
it be morn in the grave, to bid the slumberer awake 1 

Farewell ! thou bravest of men, thou conqueror in the 
field : but the field shall see thee no more ; nor the gloomy 
wood be lightened with the splendor of thy steel. — Thou 
hast left no son ; — but the song shall preserve thy name. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 119 



Exercise L. 



The Siege of Calais. — Fielding. 
Scene I- — Eustace St. Pierre, Mauny, and Citizens. 

Eustace St. Pierre. My friends, we are brought to great 
straits this day. We must either yield to the terms of our 
cruel and ensnaring conqueror, or give up our tender in- 
fants, our wives, and daughters, to the bloody and brutal 
lusts of the soldiers. Is there any expedient left, whereby 
we may avoid the guilt and infamy of delivering up those 
who have suffered every misery with you, on the one 
hand, or the desolation and horror of a sacked city, on the 
other 1 There is, my friends ; there is one expedient 
left ! a gracious, an excellent, a godlike expedient left ! 
Is there any here to whom virtue is dearer than life 1 Let 
him offer himself an oblation for the safety of his people ! 
He shall not fail of a blessed approbation from that Power 
who offered up his only Son for the salvation of mankind. 
I doubt not but there are many here as ready, nay, more 
zealous of this martyrdom than I can be ; though the sta- 
tion to which I am raised by the captivity of L ord Vienne, 
imparts a right to be the first in giving my life for your 
sakes. I give it freely ; I give it cheerfully. Who comes 
next ] 

Boy. Your son ! 

St. Pierre. Ah ! my child ! I am then twice sacrificed. 
— But no ; I have rather received thee a second time. 
Thy years are few, but full, my son. The victim of vir- 
tue has reached the utmost purpose and goal of mortality. 
Who next, my friends ? This is the hour of heroes. 

John de Aire. Your kinsman ! 
.James Wissant. Your kinsman ! 

Peter Wissant. Your kinsman ! 

Sir Walter Mauny. Ah ! why was not I a citizen of 
Calais 1 Follow me to the king. 

Scene II — Mauny, &c, King Edward, and Queen Philippa. 

King Edward. Mauny, are these the principal inhabit- 
ants of Calais'? 

Mauny. They are : they are not only the principal men 
of Calais, they are the principal men of France, my lord, 
if virtue has any share in the act of ennobling. 



120 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

King Edward. Were they delivered peaceably? Was 
there no resistance, no commotion among the people 1 

Mauny. Not in the least, my lord: the people would 
all have perished, rather than have delivered the least of 
these to your majesty. They are self-delivered, self-de- 
voted, and come to offer up their inestimable heads as an 
ample equivalent for the ransom of thousands. 

King Edward. Experience has ever shown, that lenity 
only serves to invite people to new crimes. Severity, at 
times, is indispensably necessary to compel subjects to 
submission by punishment and example. Go, lead these 
men to execution ! [ They are led out. 

Queen Philippa, entering. My lord, the question is not 
touching the lives of a few mechanics — it respects the 
honor of the English nation; it respects the glory of Ed- 
ward. You think you have sentenced six of your enemies 
to death. No, my lord, they have sentenced themselves ; 
and their execution would be the execution of their own 
orders, not the orders of Edward. The stage on which 
they would suffer, would be to them a stage of honor; 
but a stage of shame to Edward, — a reproach to his con- 
quests, — an indelible disgrace to his name. 

King Edward. I am convinced : you have prevailed. 
Be it so : prevent the execution ; have them instantly be- 
fore us ! 

Queen Philippa to St. Pierre, &c, re-entering. Natives 
of France, and inhabitants of Calais, ye have put us to a 
vast expense of blood and treasure, in the recovery of our 
just and natural inheritance ; but you have acted up to 
the best of an erroneous judgment ; and we admire and 
honor in you that valor and virtue, by which we are so 
long kept out of our rightful possessions. 

You noble burghers ! you excellent citizens ! though 
you were tenfold the enemies of our person and our 
throne, we can feel nothing, on our part, save respect and 
affection for you. You have been sufficiently tested. We 
loose your chains ; we snatch you from the scaffold ; and 
we thank you for that lesson of humiliation which you 
teach us, when you show us, that excellence is not of 
blood, of title, or station ; that virtue gives a dignity su- 
perior to that of kings ; and that those whom the Almighty 
informs with sentiments like yours, are justly and emi- 
nently raised above all human distinctions. You are 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 121 

now free to depart to your kinsfolk, your countrymen, to 
all those whose lives and liberties you have so nobly re- 
deemed, provided you refuse not the tokens of our esteem. 
Yet we would rather bind you to ourselves, by every en- 
dearing obligation ; and, for this purpose, we offer to you 
your choice of the gifts and honors that Edward has to 
bestow. Rivals for fame, but always friends to virtue, we 
wish that England were entitled to call you her sons. 

Pierre. Ah ! my country ! it is now that I tremble for 
you. Edward only wins our cities ; but Philippa con- 
quers our hearts. 



Exercise LI. 
Spectacles, or " Helps to Read." — Byrom. 

A certain artist, — I've forgot his name, — 
Had got, for making spectacles, a fame, 
Or, " helps to read," as, when they first were sold, 
Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold ; 
And, for all uses to be had from glass, 
His were allowed by readers to surpass. 
There came a man into his shop one day — 
"Are you the spectacle contriver, pray 1 ?" 
" Yes, sir," said he, " I can in that affair 
Contrive to please you, if you want a pair." 
" Can you 1 pray do, then." So at first he chose 
To place a youngish pair upon his nose ; 
And,- — book produced, to see how they would fit, — 
Asked how he liked them. " Like 'em ! — not a bit." 
" Then, sir, I fancy, if you please to try, 
These in my hand will better suit your eye !" — 
" No, but they don't." — " Well, come, sir, if you please, 
Here is another sort : we'll e'en try these ; 
Still somewhat more they magnify the letter. 
Now, sir T — " Why, now, I'm not a bit the better." 
" No ! here — take these, which magnify still more, — 
How do they fit V — " Like all the rest before !" 
In short, they tried a whole assortment through, 
But all in vain, for none of them would do. 
The operator, much surprised to find 
So odd a case, thought sure the man is blind ! 
F 



122 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

" What sort of eyes can you have got ?" said he. 
" Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see." 
" Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball. — 
Pray, let me ask you — Can you read at all V 
" No ! you great blockhead ! — If I could, what need 
Of paying you for any ' helps to read V" 
And so he left the maker in a heat, 
Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. 



Exercise LIL 
Columbus. — E. Everett. 

About half a league from the little seaport of Palos, in 
the province of Andalusia, in Spain, stands a convent 
dedicated to St. Mary. Sometime in the year 1486, a 
poor wryfaring stranger, accompanied by a small boy, 
makes his appearance, on foot, at the gate of this convent, 
and begs of the porter a little bread and water for his 
child. This friendless stranger is Columbus. Brought 
up in the hardy pursuit of a mariner, with no other relax- 
ation from its toils, than that of an occasional service in the 
fleets of his native country, with the burden of fifty years 
upon his frame, the unprotected foreigner makes his suit 
to the haughty sovereigns of Portugal and Spain. He 
tells them, that the broad flat earth on which we tread is 
round ; — he proposes, with what seems a sacrilegious 
hand, to lift the veil which had hung, from the creation of 
the world, over the flood of the ocean ; — he promises, by 
a western course, to reach the eastern shores of Asia, — 
the region of gold, and diamonds, and spices ; to extend 
the sovereignty of Christian kings over realms and nations 
hitherto unapproached and unknown ; and ultimately to 
perform a new crusade to the holy land, and ransom the 
sepulchre of our Savior, with the new-found gold of the 
East. 

Who shall believe the chimerical pretension % The 
learned men examine it, and pronounce it futile. The 
royal pilots have ascertained by their own experience, that 
it is groundless. 

Such is the reception which his proposal meets. If he 
sink beneath the indifference of the great, the sneers of 
the wise, the enmity of the mass, and the persecution of 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 123 

a host of adversaries, high and low, and give up the fruit- 
less and thankless pursuit of his noble vision, what a hope 
for mankind is blasted ! But he does not sink. He shakes 
off his paltry enemies, as the lion shakes the dewdrops 
from his mane. That consciousness of motive and of 
strength, which always supports the man who is worthy 
to be supported, sustains him in his hour of trial ; and at 
length, after years of expectation, importunity, and hope 
deferred, he launches forth upon the unknown deep, to 
discover a new world, under the patronage of Ferdinand 
and Isabella. 

The patronage of Ferdinand and Isabella ! — Let us 
dwell for a moment on the auspices under which our 
country was brought to light. The patronage of Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella ! Yes, doubtless, they have fitted out 
a convoy, worthy the noble temper of the man, and the 
gallantry of his project. Convinced at length, that it is no 
daydream of a heated visionary, the fortunate sovereigns 
of Castile and Arragon, returning from their triumph over 
the last of the Moors, and putting a victorious close to a 
war of seven centuries' duration, have no doubt prepared 
an expedition of well-appointed magnificence, to go out 
upon this splendid search for other worlds. They have 
made ready, no doubt, their proudest galleon, to waft the 
heroic adventurer upon his path of glory, with a whole 
armada of kindred spirits, to share his toils and honors. 

Alas ! from his ancient resort of Palos, which he first 
approached as a mendicant, — in three frail barks, of which 
two were without decks, — the great discoverer of America 
sails forth on the first voyage across the unexplored waters. 
Such is the patronage of kings. A few years pass by ; 
he discovers a new hemisphere ; the wildest of his visions 
fade into insignificance, before the reality of their fulfill- 
ment ; he finds a new world for Castile and Leon, and 
comes back to Spain, loaded with iron fetters. Republics, 
it is said, are ungrateful! — such are the rewards of 
monarchs. 



Exercise LIII. 
The Soldier's Dream. — Campbell. 
Our bugles sang truce ; for the night-cloud had lowered, 
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ; 



124 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, 
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 

When reposing, that night, on my pallet of straw, 
By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, 

At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw ; 
And thrice, ere the morning, I dreamt it again. 

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array 
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track ; 

'Twas autumn — and sunshine arose on the way 

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. 

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft 

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; 

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, 

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. 

Then pledged we the wine-cup ; and fondly I swore, 
From my home and my weeping friends never to part; 

My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, 
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart. 

" Stay, stay with us, — rest, thou art weary and worn !" 
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ; 

But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, 
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. 



Exercise LIV. 
The Duel. — Hood. 

In Brentford town, of old renown, 

There lived a Mister Bray, 
Who fell in love with Lucy Bell, 

And so did Mister Clay. 

To see her ride from Hammersmith, 

By all it was allowed, 
Such fair " outside"* was never seen, — 

An angel on a cloud. 

Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay, 
" You choose to rival me, 

* Alluding to the English practice of females riding on the ontside of 
stage-coaches. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 125 

And court Miss Bell ; but there your court* 
No thoroughfare shall be. 

" Unless you now give up your suit, 

You may repent your love ; — 
I, who have shot a pigeon match, 

Can shoot a turtle dove. 

" So, pray, before you woo her more, 

Consider what you do : 
If you pop aught to Lucy Bell, — 

I'll pop it into you." 

Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray, 

" Your threats I do explode ; — 
One who has been a volunteer 

Knows how to prime and load. 

" And so I say to you, unless 

Your passion quiet keeps, 
I, who have shot and hit hulls' eyes, 

May chance to hit a sheep's /" 

Now gold is oft for silver changed, 

And that for copper red ; 
But these two went away to give 

Each other change for lead. 

But first they found a friend apiece, 

This pleasant thought to give — 
That when they both were dead, they'd have 

Two seconds yet to live. 

To measure out the ground, not long 

The seconds next forbore ; 
And having taken one rash step, 

They took a dozen more. 

They next prepared each pistol pan, 

Against the deadly strife ; 
By putting in the prime of death. 

Against the prime of life. 

Now all was ready for the foes j 
But when they took their stands, 

1 The italicized words, throughout this piece, being puns, ought to be 
pronounced with double emphasis and inflection, so as to mark the wit- 
ticism. 



126 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Fear made them tremble so, they found 
They both were shaking hands. 

Said Mr. C. to Mr. B., 

" Here one of us may fall, 
And, like St. Paul's Cathedral now, 

Be doomed to have a hall. 

" I do confess I did attach 

Misconduct to your name ! 
If I withdraw the charge, will then 

Your ramrod do the same ?" 

Said Mr. B., " I do agree ; — 
But think of Honor's courts, — 

If we go off without a shot, 
There will be strange reports. 

" But look ! the morning now is bright, 

Though cloudy it begun; 
Why can't we aim above, as if 

We had called out the sun %" 

So up into the harmless air 
Their bullets they did send ; 

And may all other duels have 
That upshot in the end. 



Exercise LV. 
Outalissi. — Campbell . 
Oh ! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the morn 
When I with thee the cup of peace did share ? 
Then stately was this head, and dark this hair, 
That now is white as Appalachia's snow ; 
But, if the weight of fifteen years' despair, 
And age hath bowed me, and the torturing foe, 
Bring me my boy, — and he will his deliverer know ! — 

Yes ! thou recall'st my pride of years ; for then 

The bowstring of my spirit was not slack, 

When, spite of woods, and floods, and ambushed men, 

I bore thee like the quiver on my back, 

Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack ; 

Nor foeman then, nor cougar's couch I feared, 

For I was strong as mountain cataract ! 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 127 

And dost thou not remember how we cheered, 

Upon the last hill-top, when white men's huts appeared 1 

Then welcome be my death-song, and my death ; 
Since I have seen thee, and again embraced ! 

But this is not a time, — 

This is no time to fill the joyous cup ! 

The Mammoth comes ! — the foe ! — the Monster Brandt ! — 

With all his howling desolating band ! — 

These eyes have seen their blade, and burning pine 

Awake, at once, and silence — half your land ! 

Red is the cup they drink ; but not with wine ! 

Awake, and watch to-night, or see no morning shine ! 

Scorning to wield the hatchet for his bribe, 

'Gainst Brandt himself I went to battle forth : 

Accursed Brandt ! he left of all my tribe 

Nor man, nor child, nor thing of living birth : 

No ! — not the dog, that watched my household hearth, 

Escaped, that night of blood, upon our plains ! 

All perished ! — I alone am left on earth, 

To whom nor relative nor blood remains — 

No ! — not a kindred drop that runs in human veins ! 

But go and rouse your warriors ! — for — if right 

These old bewildered eyes could guess, by signs 

Of striped and starred banners — on yon height 

Of eastern cedars, o'er the creek of pines, 

Some fort embattled by your country shines : 

Deep roars the innavigable gulf below 

Its squared rock, and palisaded lines. 

Go, seek the light its warlike beacons show, 

While I in ambush wait, for vengeance, and the foe ! 



Exercise LVI. 
The Dying Chief. — Miss Landon. 

The stars looked down on the battle-plain, 
Where night winds were deeply sighing, 

And with shattered lance near his war-steed slain, 
Lay a youthful chieftain dying. 

lie had folded round his gallant breast 
The banner, once o'er him streaming, 



128 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

For a noble shroud, as he sunk to rest 
On the couch that knows no dreaming. 

Proudly he lay on his broken shield, 

By the rushing Guadalquiver, 
While, dark with the blood of his last red field, 

Swept on the majestic river. 

There were hands which came to bind his wounds, 
There were eyes o'er the warrior weeping ; 

But he raised his head from the dewy ground, 
Where the land's high hearts were sleeping, — 

And, "Away!" he cried — "your aid is vain, — 
My soul may not brook recalling ; — 

I have seen the stately flower of Spain 
Like the autumn vine-leaves falling ! 

" I have seen the Moorish banners wave 

O'er the halls where my youth was cherished ; 

I have drawn the sword that could not save ; 
I have stood where my king hath perished ! 

" Leave me to die with the free and the brave, 
On the banks of my own bright river : 

Ye can give me naught but a warrior's grave, 
By the chainless Guadalquiver!" 



Exercise LVII. 

Address to the surviving Veterans of the Revolution. — 
Webster. 

Venerable men !* you have come down to us from a 
former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened 
out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. 
You are now where you stood fifty years ago, this very 
hour, with your brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to 
shoulder, in the strife for your country. Behold, how al- 
tered ! The same heavens are indeed over your heads ; 
the same ocean rolls at your feet ; — but all else how chang- 
ed ! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see 
no mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burn- 
ing Charlestown. The ground strewed with the dead and 
the dying ; the impetuous charge ; the steady and success- 
* The survivors of Bunker Hill. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 129 

fill repulse j the loud call to repeated assault ; the sum- 
moning of all that is manly to repeated resistance ; a 
thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an instant 
to whatever of terror there may be in war and death ; — 
all these you have witnessed, but you witness them no 
more. All is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, 
its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives, 
and children, and countrymen, in distress and terror, and 
looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the 
combat, have presented you to-day with the sight of its 
whole happy population, come out to welcome and greet 
you with a universal jubilee. Yonder proud ships, by a 
felicity of position appropriately lying at the foot of this 
mount, and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not 
means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means 
of distinction and defence. All is peace ; and God has 
granted you this sight of your country's happiness, ere 
you slumber in the grave forever. He has allowed you 
to behold and to partake the reward of your patriotic toils ; 
and he has allowed us, your sons and countrymen, to meet 
you here, and, in the name of the present generation, in 
the name of your country, in the name of liberty, to thank 
you. 

Veterans !* you are the remnant of many a well-fought 
field. You bring with you marks of honor from Trenton 
and Monmouth, from Yorktown, Camden, Bennington, 
and Saratoga. Veterans of half a century ! when, in your 
youthful days, you put every thing at hazard in your coun- 
try's cause, good as that cause was, and sanguine as youth 
is, still your fondest hopes did not stretch onward to an 
hour like this ! At a period to which you could not rea- 
sonably have expected to arrive ; at a moment of nation- 
al prosperity, such as you could never have foreseen ; you 
are now met here, to enjoy the fellowship of old soldiers, 
and to receive the overflowings of a universal gratitude. 

But youragitated countenances and your heavingbreasts 
inform me, that even this is not an unmixed joy. I per- 
ceive that a tumult of contending feelings rushes upon 
you. The images of the dead, as well as the persons of 
the living, throng to your embraces. The scene over- 
whelms you, and I turn from it. May the Father of all 
mercies smile upon your declining years, and bless them ! 
* The survivors of the Revolutionary Army. 

F2 



130 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And, when you shall here have exchanged your embraces; 
when you shall once more have pressed the hands which 
have been so often extended to give succor in adversity, 
or grasped in the exultation of victory ; then look abroad 
into this lovely land, which your young valor defended, 
and mark the happiness with which it is filled ; yea, look 
abroad into the whole earth, and see what a name you 
have contributed to give to your country, and what a 
praise you have added to freedom, and then rejoice in the 
sympathy and gratitude, which beam upon your last days 
from the improved condition of mankind. 



Exercise LVIII. 
The Murdered Traveller. — W. C. Bryant. 

When spring, to woods and wastes around, 

Brought bloom and joy again, 
The murdered traveller's bones were found, 

Far down a narrow glen. 

The fragrant birch, above him, hung 

Her tassels in the sky ; 
And many a vernal blossom sprung, 

And nodded careless by. 

The red bird warbled, as he wrought 

His hanging nest o'erhead ; 
And fearless, near the fatal spot, 

Her young the partridge led. 

But there was weeping far away ; 

And gentle eyes, for him, 
With watching many an anxious day, 

Grew sorrowful and dim. 

They little knew, who loved him so, 

The fearful death he met, 
When shouting o'er the desert snow, 

Unarmed, and hard beset ; — 

Nor how, when round the frosty pole 

The northern dawn was red, 
The mountain wolf and wild cat stole 

To banquet on the dead ; — 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 131 

Nor how, when strangers found his bones, 

They dressed the hasty bier, 
And marked his grave with nameless stones, 

Unmoistened by a tear. 

But long they looked, and feared, and wept, 

Within his distant home ; 
And dreamed, and started as they slept, 

For joy that he was come. 

So long they looked — but never spied 

His welcome step again, 
Nor knew the fearful death he died 

Far down that narrow glen. 



Exercise LIX. 
Cupid's Warning. — H. F. Gould. 

" Take heed ! take heed ! 

They will fly with speed ; 
For I've just new strung my bow : 
My quiver is full ; and if oft I pull, 
Some arrow may hit, you know." 

" Oh ! pull away !" 
Did the maiden say ; 
" For who's the coward to mind 
A shaft that's flung from a boy so young, — 
When both of his eyes are blind V 

His bow he drew ; 

And the shafts they flew, 
Till the maiden was heard to cry, 
" Oh ! take this dart from my aching heart, 
Dear Cupid, or else I die !" 

He said,— and smiled, — 
"I'm but a child, 
And should have no skill to find, 
E'en with both my eyes, where the dart now lies; 
Then you know, fair maid, I'm blind ! 

" But, pray, be calm, 
And I'll name a balm 
That's brought by an older hand, 



132 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And, I'm told, is sure these wounds to cure : 
'Tis Hymen applies the band. 

" Now I must not stay, — 

I must haste away, — 
For my mother has bid me try 
These fluttering things, my glistening wings, 
Which, she tells me, were made to fly /" 



Exercise LX. 

Boadicea . — C owper. 

When the British warrior queen, 
Bleeding from the Roman rods, 

Sought, with an indignant mien, 
Counsel of her country's gods ; 

Sage beneath a spreading oak 
Sat the Druid, hoary chief, 

Every burning word he spoke, 
Full of rage and full of grief: 

" Princess ! if our aged eyes 

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 

'Tis because resentment ties 
All the terrors of our tongues. 

" Rome shall perish — write that word 
In the blood that she has spilt ; 

Perish hopeless and abhorred, 
Deep in ruin as in guilt. 

" Rome, for empire far renowned, 
Tramples on a thousand states; 

Soon her pride shall kiss the ground — 
Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates. 

" Other Romans shall arise, 
Heedless of a soldier's name, 

Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, 
Harmony the path to fame. 

" Then the progeny that springs 
From the forests of our land, 

Armed with thunder, clad with wings, 
Shall a wider world cnmm»"' q 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 133 

" Regions Caesar never knew 

Thy posterity shall sway, 
Where his eagles never flew, 

None invincible as they." 

Such the bard's prophetic words, 

Pregnant with celestial fire ; 
Bending as he swept the chords 

Of his sweet but awful lyre. 

She, with all a monarch's pride, 

Felt them in her bosom glow, — 
Rushed to battle, fought and died — 

Dying, hurled them at the foe : 

" Ruffians ! pitiless as proud ! 

Heaven awards the vengeance due ! 
Empire is on us bestowed, — 

Shame and ruin wait on you !" 



Exercise LXI. 
Song of the Stars. — W. C. Bryant. 
When the radiant morn of creation broke, 
And the world in the smile of God awoke, 
And the empty realms of darkness and death 
Were moved through their depths by his mighty breath, 
And orbs of beauty and spheres of flame 
From the void abyss by myriads came, — 
In the joy of youth as they darted away, 
Through the widening wastes of space to play, 
Their silver voices in chorus rung, 
And this was the song the bright ones sung : 

" Away, away, through the wide, wide sky, — 
The fair blue fields that before us lie, — 
Each sun, with the worlds that round him roll, 
Each planet, poised on her turning pole ; 
With her isles of green, and her clouds of white, 
And her waters that lie like fluid light. 

" For the source of glory uncovers his face, 
And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space ; 
And we drink, as we go, the luminous tides 
In our ruddy air and our blooming sides : 



134 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Lo, yonder the living splendors play ; 
Away, on our joyous path, away ! 

" Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar, 

In the infinite azure, star after star, 

How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass ! 

How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass ! 

And the path of the gentle winds is seen, 

Where the small waves dance, and the young woods lean. 

" And see, where the brighter daybeams pour, 
How the rainbows hang in the sunny shower ; 
And the morn and eve, with their pomp of hues, 
Shift o'er the bright planets, and shed their dews ; 
And 'twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground, 
With her shadowy cone the Night goes round ! 

" Away, away ! in our blossoming bowers, 
In the soft air wrapping these spheres of ours, 
In the seas and fountains that shine with morn, 
See, Love is brooding, and Life is born; 
And breathing myriads are breaking from night, 
To rejoice, like us, in motion and light. 

" Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres, 

To weave the dance that measures the years ; 

Glide on, in the glory and gladness sent 

To the farthest wall of the firmament, — 

The boundless visible smile of Him 

To the veil of whose brow your lamps are dim." 



Exercise LXII. 
The Dorchester Giant. — O. W. Holmes. 

There was a giant in time of old, 

A mighty one was he ; 
He had a wife, but she was a scold, 
So he kept her shut up in his mammoth fold ; 

And he had children three. 

It happened to be an election day, 

And the giants were choosing a king ; 
The people were not democrats then, 
They did not talk of the rights of men, 
And all that sort of thing. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 135 

Then the giant took his children three, 

And fastened them in the pen; 
The children roared ; quoth the giant, "Be still!" 
And Dorchester Heights and Milton Hill 

Rolled back the sound again. 

Then he brought a pudding, stuffed with plums, 

As big as the State-House dome ; 
Quoth he, " There's something for you to eat; 
So stop up your mouths with your 'lection treat, 

And wait till your dad comes home." 

So the giant pulled him a chestnut stout, 

And whittled the boughs away ; 
The boys and their mother set up a shout ; 
Said he, " You're in, and you can't get out ; 

Bellow as loud as you may." 

Off he went, and he growled a tune, 

As he strode the fields along : 
'Tis said a buffalo fainted away, 
And fell as cold as a lump of clay, 

"When he heard the giant's song. 

But whether the story's true or not, 

It is not for me to show ; 
There's many a thing that's twice as queer 
In somebody's lectures that we hear ; 

And those are true — you know. 

What are those lone ones doing now, 

The wife and the children sad 1 
Oh ! they are in a terrible rout, 
Screaming, and throwing their pudding about — 

Acting as they were mad. 

They flung it over to Roxbury hills, 

They flung it over the plain, 
All over Milton, and Dorchester, too, — 
Great lumps of pudding the giants threw ; 

They tumbled as thick as rain. 

Giant and mammoth have passed away ; 

For ages have floated by ; 
The suet is hard as a marrow bone, 
And every plum is turned to a stone, 

But there the puddings lie. 



136 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And if, some pleasant afternoon, 

You'll ask me out to ride, 
The whole of the story I will tell, 
And you shall see where the puddings fell,- 

And pay for the treat beside. 



L.XERCISE LXIII. 

Green River. — W. C. Bryant. 

When breezes are soft, and skies are fair, 
I steal an hour from study and care, 
And hie me away to the woodland scene, 
Where wanders the stream with waters of green ; 
As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink, 
Had given their stain to the wave they drink ; 
And they, whose meadows it murmurs through, 
Have named the stream from its own fair hue. 

Yet pure its waters — its shallows are bright 
With colored pebbles and sparkles of light, 
And clear the depths where its eddies play, 
And dimples deepen and whirl away, 
And the plane-tree's speckled arms o'ershoot 
The swifter current that mines its root, 
Through whose shifting leaves, as you walk the hill, 
The quivering glimmer of sun and rill, 
With a sudden flash on the eye is thrown, 
Like the ray that streams from the diamond stone. 
Oh ! loveliest there the spring days come, 
With blossoms, and birds, and wild bees' hum ; 
The flowers of summer are fairest there, 
And freshest the breath of the summer air ; 
And sweetest the golden autumn day 
In silence and sunshine glides away. 

Yet fair as thou art, thou shunnest to glide, 
Beautiful stream ! by the village side ; 
But windest away from haunts of men, 
To quiet valley and shaded glen ; 
And forest, and meadow, and slope of hill, 
Around thee, are lonely, lovely, and still. 
Lonely — save when, by thy rippling tides, 
From thicket to thicket the angler glides ; 
Or the simpler comes with basket and book, 
For herbs of power on thy banks to look ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 137 

Or haply, some idle dreamer, like me, 
To wander, and muse, and gaze on thee. 
Still — save the chirp of birds that feed 
On the river cherry and seedy reed, 
And thy own wild music gushing out 
With mellow murmur and fairy shout, 
From dawn, to the blush of another day, 
Like traveller singing along his way. 

That fairy music I never hear, 
Nor gaze on those waters so green and clear, 
And mark them winding away from sight, 
Darkened with shade, or flashing with light, 
While o'er them the vine to its thicket clings, 
And the zephyr stoops to freshen his wings, 
But I wish that fate had left me free 
To wander these quiet haunts with thee, 
Till the eating cares of earth should depart, 
And the peace of the scene pass into my heart ; 
And I envy thy stream, as it glides along, 
Through its beautiful banks in a trance of song. 

Though forced to druge for the dregs of men, 
And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, 
And mingle among the jostling crowd, 
Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud — 
I often come to this quiet place, 
To breathe the airs that ruffle thy face, 
And gaze upon thee in silent dream ; 
For in thy lonely and lovely stream, 
An image of that calm life appears, 
That won my heart in my greener years. 



Exercise LXIV. 

General Wolfe to his Army. — Aikin. 

I congratulate you, my brave countrymen and fellow- 
soldiers, on the spirit and success with which you have 
executed this important part of our enterprise. The 
formidable heights of Abraham are now surmounted; and 
the city of Quebec, the object of all our toils, now stands 
in view before us. A perfidious enemy, who have dared 
to exasperate you by their cruelties, but not to oppose 



138 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

you on equal ground, are now constrained to face you on 
the open plain, without ramparts or intrenchments to 
shelter them. 

You know too well the forces which compose their 
army to dread their superior numbers. A few regular 
troops from old France, weakened by hunger and sick- 
ness, who, when fresh, were unable to withstand British 
soldiers, are their general's chief dependence. Those 
numerous companies of Canadians, insolent, mutinous, un- 
steady, and ill disciplined, have exercised his utmost skill 
to keep them together to this time ; and as soon as their 
irregular ardor is damped by our firm fire, they will in- 
stantly turn their backs, and give you no farther trouble 
but in the pursuit. As for those savage tribes of Indians, 
whose horrid yells in the forest have struck many a bold 
heart with affright, terrible as they are with the tomahawk 
and scalping-knife to a flying and prostrate foe, you have 
experienced how little their ferocity is to be dreaded by 
resolute men upon fair and open ground : you will now 
only consider them as the just objects of a severe revenge 
for the unhappy fate of many slaughtered countrymen. 

This day puts it into your power to terminate the fa- 
tigues of a siege, which has so long employed your cour- 
age and patience. Possessed with a full confidence of 
the certain success which British valor must gain over 
such enemies, I have led you up to these steep and dan- 
gerous rocks, only solicitous to show you the foe within 
your reach. The impossibility of a retreat makes no dif- 
ference in the situation of men resolved to conquer or 
die : and believe me, my friends, if your conquest could be 
bought with the blood of your general, he would most 
cheerfully resign a life which he has long devoted to his 
country. 






Exercise LXV. 

The Cameleon. — Merrick. 
Oft has it been my lot to mark 
A proud, conceited, talking spark, 
With eyes that hardly served, at most, 
To guard their master 'gainst a post, 
Yet round the world the blade has been 
To see whatever could be seen, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 139 

Returning from his finished tour, 
Grown ten times perter than before : 
Whatever word you chance to drop, 
The travelled fool your mouth will stop — 
" Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — 
I've seen — and sure I ought to know" — 
So begs you'd pay a due submission, 
And acquiesce in bis decision. 

Two travellers of such a cast, 
As o'er Arabia's wilds they past, 
And on their way in friendly chat, 
Now talked of this and then of that, 
Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter, 
Of the cameleon's form and nature : 
u A stranger animal," cries one, 
" Sure never lived beneath the sun : 
A lizard's body lean and long, 
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 
Its foot with triple claw disjoined ; 
And what a length of tail behind ! 
How slow its pace ! and then its hue — 
Who ever saw so fine a blue ?" 

" Hold, there !" the other quick replies ; 
" 'Tis green — I saw it with these eyes, 
As late with open mouth it lay, 
And warmed it in the sunny ray ; 
Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed, 
And saw it eat the air for food." 

"I've seen it, sir, as well as you, 
And must again affirm it blue. 
At leisure I the beast surveyed, 
Extended in the cooling shade." 

" 'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye" — 
" Green !" cries the other in a fury — 
" Why, sir, — d'ye think I've lost my eyes V 
" 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies ; 
" For, if they always serve you thus, 
You'll find 'em but of little use." 

So high at last the contest rose, 
From words they almost came to blows : 
When luckily came by a third — 
To him the question they referred ; 



140 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And begged he'd tell them, if he knew, 
Whether the thing was green or blue. 

" Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother, 
The creature's neither one nor t'other; 
I caught the animal last night, 
And viewed it o'er by candlelight : 
I marked it well — 'twas black as jet — 
You stare — but, sirs, I've got it yet. 
And can produce it." — " Pray, sir, do ; 
I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 
" And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen 
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." 
" Well, then, at once to end the doubt," 
Replies the man, " I'll turn him out : 
And when before your eyes I've set him, 
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." 
He said ; then full before their sight 
Produced the beast ; and, lo ! — 'twas white ! 






Exercise LXVI. 

An Indian at the Burial-place of his Fathers. — W. C. 
Bryant. 

It is the spot I came to seek, — 

My fathers' ancient burial-place, 
Ere, from these vales, ashamed and weak, 

Withdrew our wasted race. 
It is the spot, — I know it well, — 
Of which our old traditions tell. 

For here the upland bank sends out 

A ridge toward the river side ; 
I know the shaggy hills about, 

The meadows smooth and wide, 
The plains, that, toward the southern sky, 
Fenced east and west by mountains lie. 

A white man, gazing on the scene, 
Would say a lovely spot was here, 

And praise the lawns, so fresh and green, 
Between the hills so sheer. 

I like it not — I would the plain 

Lay in its tall old groves again. 






PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 141 

The sheep are on the slopes around, 

The cattle in the meadows feed ; 
And laborers turn the crumbling ground, 

Or drop the yellow seed ; 
And prancing steeds, in trappings gay, 
Whirl the bright chariot o'er the way. 

Methinks it were a nobler sight 

To see these vales in woods arrayed, 

Their summits in the golden light, 
Their trunks in grateful shade, 

And herds of deer, that bounding go 

O'er rills and prostrate trees below. 

And then to mark the lord of all, 

The forest hero, trained to wars, 
Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall, 

And seamed with glorious scars, 
Walk forth, amid his reign, to dare 
The wolf, and grapple with the bear. 

This bank, in which the dead were laid, 
Was sacred when its soil was ours : 

Hither the artless Indian maid 

Brought wreaths of beads and flowers. 

And the gray chief and gifted seer 

Worshipped the god of thunders here. 

But now the wheat is green and high 
On clods that hide the warrior's breast ; 

And, scattered in the farrows, lie 
The weapons of his rest ; 

And there, in the loose sand, is thrown 

Of his large arm the mouldering bone. 

Ah ! little thought the strong and brave, 
Who bore their lifeless chieftain forth ; 

Or the young wife, that weeping gave 
Her first-born to the earth, 

That the pale race, who waste us now, 

Among their bones should guide the plough ! 

They waste us : — ay, — like April snow 
In the warm noon, we shrink away ; 

And fast they follow, as we go 
Toward the setting day, — 



142 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Till they shall fill the land, and we 
Are driven into the western sea. 

But I behold a fearful sign, 

To which the white men's eyes are blind 
Their race may vanish hence, like mine, 

And leave no trace behind, 
Save ruins o'er the region spread, 
And the white stones above the dead. 

Before these fields were shorn and tilled, 
Full to the brim our rivers flowed ; 

The melody of waters filled 

The fresh and boundless wood ; 

And torrents dashed and rivulets played, 

And fountains spouted in the shade. 

Those grateful sounds are heard no more, 
The springs are silent in the sun, 

The rivers, by the blackened shore, 
With lessening current run ; 

The realm our tribes are crushed to get, 

May be a barren desert yet. 






Exercise LXVII. 
The Seminole's Reply. — G-. W. Patten. 

Blaze, with your serried columns ! 

I will not bend the knee : 
The shackles ne'er again shall bind 

The arm which now is free. 
I've mailed it with the thunder, 

When the tempest muttered low ; 
And where it falls, ye well may dread 

The lightning of its blow. 

I've scared ye in the city, 

I've scalped ye on the plain ; 
Go, count your chosen where they fell, 

Beneath my leaden rain ! 
I scorn your proffered treaty ; — 

The pale face I defy : 
Revenge is stamped upon my spear, 

And " blood/" my battle-cry. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 143 

^ome strike for hope of booty, — 

Some to defend their all j — 
I battle for the joy I have 

To see the white man fall : 
I love, among the wounded 

To hear his dying moan, 
And catch, while chanting at his side, 

The music of his groan. 

Ye've trailed me through the forest, 

Ye've tracked me o'er the stream ; 
And, struggling through the everglade, 

Your bristling bayonets gleam : 
But I stand as should the warrior, 

With his rifle and his spear ; — 
The scalp of vengeance still is red, 

And warns ye, " Come not here !" 

I loathe ye in my bosom, 

I scorn ye with mine eye ; 
And I'll taunt ye with my latest breath, 

And fight ye till I die ! 
I ne'er will ask ye quarter, 

And I ne'er will be your slave ; 
But I'll swim the sea of slaughter, 

Till I sink beneath the wave; 



Exercise LXVIII. 
The Gladness of Nature. — W. C. Bryant. 

Is this a time to be gloomy and sad, 

"When our mother, Nature, laughs around ; 

When even the deep blue heavens look glad, 

And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground 1 

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, 
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky ; 

The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den, 
And the wilding bee hums merrily by. 

The clouds are at play in the azure space, 

And their shadows at play on the bright green vale ; 

And here they stretch to the frolic chase, 
And there they roll on the easy gale. 



144 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, 
There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree ; 

There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, 
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. 

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles 
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, 

On the leaping waters and gay young isles ; — 
Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away. 



Exercise LXIX. 
The Tragical History of Major Brown. — Hood. 

If any man, in any age, 

In any town or city, 
Was ever valiant, courteous, sage, 

Experienced, wise or witty, 

That man was Major Brown by name : 

The fact you cannot doubt, 
For he himself would say the same, 

Ten times a day, about. 

The major in the foreign wars 

Indifferently had fared ; 
For he was covered o'er with scars, 

Though he was never scared. 

But war had now retired to rest, 

And piping peace returned ; 
Yet still within his ardent breast, 

The major's spirit burned. 

When suddenly he heard of one 

Who, in an air balloon 
Had gone — I can't tell where he'd gone — 

Almost into the moon. 

" Let me — let me," the major cries, 

" Let me, like him, ascend ; 
And if it Jail that I should rise, 

Who knows where it may end V 

Now many yards of silk were brought, 
And many iron nails, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 145 

And many drugs of many a sort, 
And placed in many pails. 

And now the whole appears complete — 

With wonder most profound, 
Admiring crowds together meet 

From every village round. 

While some the chequered bag admire, 

And some prefer the car — 
Behold ! with head some inches higher, 

In steps the man of war. 

The cords are cut — a mighty shout ! — 

The globe ascends on high ; 
And, like a ball from gun shot out, 

The major mounts the sky — 

Or would have done, but cruel chance 

Forbade it so to be ; 
And bade the major not advance — 

Caught in a chestnut- tree. 

But soon the awkward branch gives way, 

He smooths his angry brow, 
Shoots upward, rescued from delay, 

And makes the branch a bow : 

Till, mounting furlongs now some dozens, 

And peeping down, he pants 
To see his mother, sisters, cousins, 

And uncles, look like ants. 

That Brown looked blue I will not say — 

His uniform was red ; — 
But he thought that if his car gave way 

He should probably be dead. 

He gave his manly breast a slap, 

And loudly shouted " Courage !" 
And waved above his head the cap 

In which he used to forage. 

And up he went, and looked around 

To see what there might be, 
And felt convinced that on the ground 

Were better things to see. 
G 



146 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

A strange bird came his path across, 
Whose name he did not know ; 

Quoth he, " 'Tis like an albatross," — : 
It proved to be a crow. 

" I wish that you would please to drop," 
Quoth Brown to his balloon ; — 

He might as well have spoken to 
The man that's in the moon. 

He saw no more the pigmy crowd 
That dwelt upon earth's ball ; 

For why ] — he'd got into a cloud, 
And could not see at all. 

Though nearer to the sun, 'twas queer, 
He found it wondrous cold ; 

And the major now began to fear 
That he had been too bold. 

Though he had taken pains to learn 

To mount the skyey plain, 
Alas ! he'd taken no concern 

How to come down again. 

And now the heavens begin to lower, 
And thunders loud to roll ; 

And winds and rains to blow and pour 
That would daunt a generaVs souL 

Such a hurricane to Major Brown 

Must most unpleasant be ; 
And he said, " If I cannot get down, 

'Twill be all up with me !" 

From his pocket, then, a knife he took — 
In Birmingham 'twas made — 

The handle was of handsome look, 
Of tempered steel the blade. 

Says he, " The acquaintance of a balloon 

I certainly shall cut;" 
So in the silken bag, full soon 

His penknife blade he put. 

Out rushed the gas imprisoned there, — 
The balloon began to sink ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 147 

"I shall surely soon get out of the air," 
Said Major Brown, a I think." 

Alas ! how shall I write it down, 

What now I have to tell ? 
Misfortune fell to Major Brown, 

Who to misfortune fell. 

Alas for Brown, balloon, and car, 

The gas went out too fast ; 
The car went upside down, and far 

Poor Major Brown was cast. 

Long time head over heels he tum- 
bled, till unto the ground, 

As I suppose, he must have come ; 
But he was never found. 

The car was found in London town ; 

The bag to Oxford flew ; 
But what became of Major Brown, 

No mortal ever knew. 



Exercise LXX. 
The Fishermen. — J. G. Whittier. 

Hurrah ! the seaward breezes 

Sweep down the bay amain ; 
Heave up, my lads, the anchor, 

Run up the sail again ! 
Leave to the lubber landsmen 

The rail-car and the steed ; 
The stars of Heaven shall guide us, 

The breath of Heaven shall speed. 

From the hill-top looks the steeple 

And the light-house from the sand ; 
And the scattered pines are waving 

Their farewell from the land. 
One glance, my lads, behind us, 

For the homes we leave, one sigh, 
Ere we take the change and chances 

Of the ocean and the sky. 

Now, brothers, for the icebergs 
Of frozen Labrador, 



148 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Floating spectral in the moonshine, 
Along the low, black shore ! 

Where like snow the gannet's feathers 
On Brador's rocks are shed, 

And the noisy raurr are flying 
Like black scuds overhead. 

There we'll drop our lines, and gather 

Old ocean's treasures in 
Where'er the mottled mackerel 

Turns up a steel-dark fin ; 
Where'er the brown cod glideth 

Amid his scaly clan, 
We will reap the North-land's harvest 

As her reapers only can. 

Our wet hands spread the carpet, 

And light the hearth of home ; 
From our fish, as in the old time, 

The silver coin shall come. 
As the demon fled the chamber 

Where the fish of Tobit lay, 
So ours from all our dwellings 

Shall frighten Want away. 

Though the mist upon our jackets 

In the bitter air congeals, 
And our lines wind stiff and slowly 

From off the frozen reels ; 
Though the fog be dark around us 

And the storm blow high and loud, 
We will whistle down the wild wind, 

And laugh beneath the cloud ! 

In the darkness as in daylight, 

On the water as on land, 
God's eye is looking on us, 

And beneath us is His hand ! 
Death will find us soon or later, 

On the deck or in the cot ; 
And we cannot meet him better 

Than in working out our lot. 

Hurrah ! — hurrah ! — the west wind 
Comes creeping down the bay ; 



PIECES FOR FRACTICE. 149 

The rising sails are filling — 

Give way, my lads, give way ! 
Leave the coward landsman clinging 

To the dull earth like a weed — 
The stars of Heaven shall guide us, 

The breath of Heaven shall speed. 



Exercise LXXI. 
On the Shortness of Life. — Cowper. 

I have neither long visits to pay nor to receive, nor 
ladies to spend hours in telling me that which might be 
told in five minutes, yet often find myself obliged to be an 
economist of time, and to make the most of a short oppor- 
tunity. Let our station be as retired as it may, there is 
no want of playthings and avocations, nor much need to 
seek them, in this world of ours. Business, or what pre- 
sents itself to us under that imposing character, will find 
us out, even in the stillest retreat, and plead its impor- 
tance, however trivial in reality, as a just demand upon our 
attention. It is wonderful how by means of such real or 
seeming necessities my time is stolen away. I have just 
time to observe that time is short, and by the time I have 
made the observation, time is gone. 

I have wondered, in former days, at the patience of the 
antediluvian world. ; that they could endure a life almost 
millenary, with so little variety as seems to have fallen to 
their share. It is probable that they had much fewer em- 
ployments than we. Their affairs lay in a narrower com- 
pass ; their libraries were indifferently furnished ; philo- 
sophical researches were carried on with much less industry 
and acuteness of penetration ; and fiddles, perhaps, were 
not invented. How, then, could seven or eight hundred 
years of life be supportable 1 I have asked this question 
formerly, and been at a loss to resolve it ; but I think I 
can answer it now. 

I will suppose myself born a thousand years before 
Noah was born or thought of. I rise with the sun ; I 
worship ; I prepare my breakfast ; I swallow a bucket of 
goat's milk, and a dozen good sizeable cakes. I fasten a 
new string to my bow; and my youngest boy, a lad of 
about thirty years of age, having played with my arrows 



150 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

till he has stripped off all the feathers, I find myself 
obliged to repair them. 

The morning is thus spent in preparing for the chase ; 
and it is become necessary that I should dine. I dig up 
my roots ; I wash them ; I boil them ; I find them not 
done enough, I boil them again ; my wife is angry ; we 
dispute ; we settle the point ; but in the mean time the 
fire goes out, and must be kindled again. All this is very 
amusing. I hunt ; I bring home the prey ; with the skin 
of it I mend an old coat, or I make a new one. 

By this time the day is far spent ; I feel myself fatigued, 
and retire to rest. Thus, what with tilling the ground, 
and eating the fruit of it, hunting and walking, and run- 
ning, and mending old clothes, and sleeping and rising 
again, I can suppose an inhabitant of the primeval world 
so much occupied, as to sigh over the shortness of life, 
and to find at the end of many centuries, that they had all 
slipped through his fingers, and were passed away like a 
shadow. 

What wonder, then, that I, who live in a day of so much 
greater refinement, when there is so much more to be 
wanted, and wished, and to be enjoyed, should feel my- 
self now and then pinched in point of opportunity, and at 
some loss for leisure to fill four sides of a letter sheet ? 
Thus, however, it is : and if the ancient gentlemen to 
whom I have referred, and their complaints of the dispro- 
portion of time to the occasions they had for it, will not 
serve me as an excuse, I must even plead guilty, and con- 
fess that I am often in haste, when 1 have no good reason 
for being so. 

Exercise LXXII. 
The Directing Post* — Lovell. 
In winter once, an honest, travelling wight 
Pursued his road to Derby, late at night. 
'Twas very cold, the wind was bleak and high, 
And not a house or living thing was nigh. 
At length he came to where some four roads met ; 
It rained, too, and he was completely wet; 
And being doubtful which way he should take, 
He drew up to the finger-post,* to make 

* Guide-board. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 151 

It out : and after much of poring, fumbling, 

Some angry oaths, and a great deal of grumbling, 

'Twas thus the words he traced, "To Derby — five" — 

" A goodly distance yet, — as I'm alive." 

But on he drove, a weary length of way, 

And wished his journey he'd delayed till day. 

He wondered that no town appeared in view ; 

The wind blew stronger ; it rained faster, too, 

When, to his great relief, he met a man. 

" I say, good friend, pray tell me, if you can, 

How far is't hence to Derby V' " Derby, hey 1 — 

Why, zur, thee beest completely coom astray ; 

This y'ant the road." " Why, sure the guide-post showed 

* To Derby, five,' and pointed down this road." — 

" Ay, dang it, that may be ; for you maun know 

The post it was blown down, last night ; and so, 

This morn, I put it up again, but whether, 

As I can't put great A and B together, 

The post is right, I'm zure I cannot zay: 

The town is just five miles the other way." 



Exercise LXXIII. 
Song of Marion 1 s Men. — W. C. Bryant. 
Our band is few, but true and tried, — 

Our leader frank and bold ; 
The British soldier trembles 

When Marion's name is told. 
Our fortress is the good green wood, 

Our tent the cypress-tree ; 
We know the forest round us, 

As seamen know the sea. 
We know its walls of thorny vines, 

Its glades of reedy grass, 
Its safe and silent islands 

Within the dark morass. 

Woe to the English soldiery 

That little dread us near ! 
On them shall light, at midnight, 

A strange and sudden fear : 
When, waking to their tents on fire, 

They grasp their arms in vain, 



152 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And they who stand to face us 

Are beat to earth again ; 
And they who fly in terror deem 

A mighty host behind, 
And hear the tramp of thousands 

Upon the hollow wind. 

Then sweet the hour that brings release 

From danger and from toil : 
We talk the battle over, 

And share the battle's spoil. 
The woodland rings with laugh and shout, 

As if a hunt were up ; 
And woodland flowers are gathered, 

To crown the soldier's cup. 
With merry songs we mock the wind 

That in the pine-top grieves, 
And slumber long and sweetly, 

On beds of oaken leaves. 

Well knows the fair and friendly moon 

The band that Marion leads — 
The glitter of their rifles, 

The scampering of their steeds. 
'Tis life to guide the fiery barb 

Across the moonlight plain ; 
'Tis life to feel the night-wind 

That lifts his tossing mane. 
A moment in the British camp — 

A moment — and away, 
. Back to the pathless forest, 

Before the peep of day. 

Grave men there are by broad San tee, 

Grave men with hoary hairs ; 
Their hearts are all with Marion, 

For Marion are their prayers. 
And lovely ladies greet our band, 

With kindliest welcoming, 
With smiles like those of summer, 

And tears like those of spring. 
For them we wear these trusty arms, 

And lay them down no more, 
Till we have driven the Briton 

Forever from our shore. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 153 

Exercise LXXIV. 

Washington's Statue. — H. T. Tuckerman. 
The quarry whence thy form majestic sprung, 

Has peopled earth with grace, — 
Heroes and gods that elder bards have sung, 

A bright and peerless race ; 
But from its sleeping veins ne'er rose before 

A shape of loftier name 
Than his, who Glory's wreath with meekness wore, 

The noblest son of Fame. 
Sheathed is the sword that Passion never stained ; 

His gaze around is cast, 
As if the joys of Freedom, newly-gained, 

Before his vision passed ; 
As if a nation's shout of love and pride 

With music filled the air, 
And his calm soul was lifted on the tide 

Of deep and grateful prayer ; 
As if the crystal mirror of his life 

To fancy sweetly came, 
With scenes of patient toil and noble strife, 

Undimmed by doubt or shame ; 
As if the lofty purpose of his soul 

Expression would betray — 
The high resolve Ambition to control, 

And thrust her crown away ! 
Oh ! it was well in marble firm and white 

To carve our hero's form, 
Whose angel guidance was our strength in fight, 

Our star amid the storm ! 
Whose matchless truth has made his name divine, 

And human freedom sure, 
His country great, his tomb earth's dearest shrine, 

While man and time endure ! 
And it is well to place his image there, 

Upon the soil he blest ; 
Let meaner spirits who its councils share, 

Revere that silent guest ! 
Let us go up with high and sacred love 

To look on his pure brow, 
And as, with solemn grace, he points above, 

Renew the patriot's vow ! 
G 2 



154 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Exercise LXXV. 

" Seventy-Six." — W. C. Bryant. 

What heroes from the woodland sprung, 

When, through the fresh- awakened land, 
The thrilling cry of freedom rung, 
And to the work of warfare strung 
The yeoman's iron hand ! 

Hills flung the cry to hills around ; 

And ocean-mart replied to mart ; 
And streams, whose springs were yet unfound, 
Pealed far away the startling sound 

Into the forest's heart. 

Then marched the brave from rocky steep, 

From mountain river swift and cold ; 
The borders of the stormy deep, 
The vales where gathered waters sleep, 
Sent up the strong and bold. 

As if the very earth again 

Grew quick with God's creating breath, 
And, from the sods of grove and glen, 
Rose ranks of lion-hearted men, 

To battle to the death. 

The wife, whose babe first smiled that day, 

The fair fond bride of yestereve, 
And aged sire and matron gray, 
Saw the loved warriors haste away, 
And deemed it sin to grieve. 

Already had the strife begun ; 

Already blood on Concord's plain 
Along the springing grass had run, 
And blood had flowed at Lexington, 

Like brook of April rain. 

That death-stain on the vernal sward 
Hallowed to freedom all the shore ; 

In fragments fell the yoke abhorred — 

The footstep of a foreign lord 
Profaned the soil no more. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 155 

Exercise LXXVI. 
To the Eagle. — Percival. 

Bird of the broad and sweeping wing ! 

Thy home is high in heaven, 
Where wide the storms their banners fling, 

And the tempest clouds are driven. 
Thy throne is on the mountain top ; 

Thy fields — the boundless air ; 
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop 

The skies — thy dwellings are. 

Lord of the boundless realm of air ! 

In thy imperial name, 
The hearts of the bold and ardent dare, 

The dangerous path of fame. 
Beneath the shade of thy golden wings, 

The Roman legions bore, 
From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs, 

Their pride, to the polar shore. 

For thee they fought, for thee they fell, 

And their oath was on thee laid ; 
To thee the clarions raised their swell, 

And the dying warrior prayed. 
Thou wert, through an age of death and fears, 

The image of pride and power, 
Till the gathered rage of a thousand years 

Burst forth in one awful hour. 

And then, a delude of wrath it came, 

And the nations shook with dread; 
And it swept the earth till its fields were flame, 

And piled with the mingled dead. 
Kings were rolled in the wasteful flood, 

With the low and crouching slave ; 
And together lay, in a shroud of blood, 

The coward and the brave. 

And where was then thy fearless flight ? — 

" O'er the dark mysterious sea, 
To the lands that caught the setting light, 

The cradle of Liberty. 



156 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

There, on the silent and lonely shore, 

For ages, I watched alone ; 
And the world, in its darkness, asked no more 

Where the glorious bird had flown. 

" But then came a bold and hardy few, 

And they breasted the unknown wave : 
I caught afar the wandering crew, 

And I knew they were high and brave. 
I wheeled around the welcome bark, 

As it sought the desolate shore ; 
And up to heaven, like a joyous lark, 

My quivering pinions bore. 

" And now that bold and hardy few 

Are a nation wide and strong ; 
And danger and doubt I have led them through, 

And they worship me in song ; 
And over their bright and glancing arms 

On field, and lake, and sea, 
With an eye that fires, and a spell that charms, 

T guide them to victory." 



Exercise LXXVII. 
The Affair of Lexington and Concord. — E. Everett. 

In the prodigious efforts of a veteran army, beneath the 
dazzling splendor of their array, there is something re- 
volting to the reflective mind. The ranks are filled with 
the desperate, the mercenary, the depraved ; an iron 
slavery, by the name of subordination, merges the free 
will of one hundred thousand men, in the unqualified des- 
potism of one ; the humanity, mercy, and remorse, which 
scarce ever desert the individual bosom, are sounds with- 
out a meaning to that fearful, ravenous, irrational monster 
of prey, a mercenary army. It is hard to say who are 
most to be commiserated, the wretched people on whom 
it is let loose, or the still more wretched people, whose 
substance has been sucked out to nourish it into strength 
and fury. 

But, in the efforts of the people, of the people strug- 
gling for their rights, moving not in organized, disciplined 
masses, but in their spontaneous action, man for man, and 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 157 

heart for heart, — though I like not war nor any of its 
works, — there is something glorious. They can then move 
forward without orders, act together without combination, 
and brave the flaming lines of battle, without entrench- 
ments to cover, or walls to shield them. 

No dissolute camp has worn off from the feelings of the 
youthful soldier the freshness of that home, where his 
mother and his sisters sit waiting, with tearful eyes and 
aching hearts, to hear good news from the wars ; no long 
service in the ranks of a conqueror has turned the veter- 
an's heart into marble ; their valor springs not from reck- 
lessness, from habit, from indifference to the preservation 
of a life knit by no pledges to the life of others ; but in 
the strength and spirit of the cause alone, they act, they 
contend, they bleed. In this, they conquer. 

The people always conquer. They always must con- 
quer. Armies may be defeated ; kings may be over- 
thrown, and new dynasties imposed by foreign arms on 
an ignorant and slavish race, that care not in what lan- 
guage the covenant of their subjection runs, nor in whose 
name the deed of their barter and sale is made out. But 
the people never invade ; and, when they rise against the 
invader, are never subdued. 

If they are driven from the plains, they fly to the 
mountains. Steep rocks, and everlasting hills, are their 
castles ; the tangled, pathless thicket, their palisado ; and 
nature, — God, is their ally. Now he overwhelms the 
hosts of their enemies beneath his drifting mountains of 
sand ; now he buries them beneath a falling atmosphere 
of polar snows ; he lets loose his tempests on their fleets ; 
he puts a folly into their counsels, a madness into the 
hearts of their leaders ; and never gave, and never will 
give, a full and final triumph over a virtuous, gallant peo- 
ple, resolved to be free. 



Exercise LXXVIII. 
The Vision of Liberty. — H. Ware, Jr. 

The evening heavens were calm and bright ; 
No dimness rested on the glittering light, 
That sparkled from the wilderness of worlds on high. 



158 JUVENILE SPEAKHR. 

Those distant suns burned on with quiet ray ; 
The placid planets held their modest way ; 
And silence reigned profound o'er earth, and sea, and sky. 

Oh ! what an hour for lofty thought ! 
My spirit burned within ; I caught 
A holy inspiration from the hour. — 
Around me man and nature slept; 
Alone my solemn watch I kept, 
Till morning dawned, and sleep resumed her power. 

A vision passed upon my soul. 
I still was gazing up to heaven, 
As in the early hours of even ; 
I still beheld the planets roll, 
And all those countless sons of light 
Flame from the broad blue arch, and guide the moonless 
night. 

When, lo, upon the plain, 
Just where it skirts the swelling main, 
A massive castle, far and high, 
In towering grandeur broke upon my eye. 
Proud in its strength and years, the ponderous pile 

Flung up its time-defying towers ; 
Its lofty gates seemed scornfully to smile 
At vain assault of human powers, 

And threats and arms deride. 
Its gorgeous carvings of heraldic pride 
In giant masses graced the walls above, 

And dungeons yawned below. 

Yet ivy there and moss their garlands wove, 

Grave silent chroniclers of Time's protracted flow. 

Bursting on my steadfast gaze, 

See, within, a sudden blaze ! 
So small at first, the zephyr's slightest swell, 

That scarcely stirs the pine-tree top, 

Nor makes the withered leaf to drop, 
The feeble fluttering of that flame would quell. 

But soon it spread — 
"Waving, rushing, fierce, and red, 
From wall to wall, from tower to tower, 
Raging with resistless power ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 159 

Till every fervent pillar glowed, 

And every stone seemed burning coal, 
Instinct with living heat, that flowed 
Like streaming radiance from the kindled pole. 

Beautiful, fearful, grand, — 
Silent as death, I saw the fabric stand. 
At length a crackling sound began ; 
From side to side, throughout the pile it ran ; 
And louder yet, and louder grew, — 
Till now in rattling thunder peals it flew, 
Huge shivered fragments from the pillars broke, 
Like fiery sparkles from the anvil's stroke : 
The shattered walls were rent and riven, 
And piecemeal driven 
Like blazing comets through the troubled sky. — 
'Tis done ; what centuries had reared, 
In quick explosion disappeared, 
Nor even its ruins met my wondering eye. 

But in their place, — 
Bright with more than human grace, 

Robed in more than mortal seeming, 
Radiant glory in her face, 

And eyes with heaven's own brightness beaming, 
Rose a fair majestic form, 
As the mild rainbow from the storm. 

I marked her smile, I knew her eye ; 

And when, with gesture of command, 

She waved aloft the cap-crowned wand, 
My slumbers fled mid shouts of" Liberty !" 

Read ye the dream 1 and know ye not 
How truly it unlocked the word of fate 1 

Went not the flame from this illustrious spot, 
And spreads it not, and burns in every state 1 
And when their old and cumbrous walls, 
Filled with this spirit, glow intense, 
Vainly they rear their impotent defence, — 
The fabric falls ! 
That fervent energy must spread, 
Till despotism's towers be overthrown ; 
And in their stead, 
Liberty stands alone ! 



160 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Hasten the day, just Heaven ! 
Accomplish thy design ; 
And let the blessings thou hast freely given, 

Freely on all men shine ; 
Till equal rights be equally enjoyed, 
And human power for human good employed ; 
Till law, not man, the sovereign rule sustain, 
And peace and virtue undisputed reign. 



Exercise LXXIX. 
The Greek Partisan. — W. C. Bryant. 

Our free flag is dancing 

In the free mountain air, 
And burnished arms are glancing, 

And warriors gathering there ; 
And fearless is the little train 

Whose gallant bosoms shield it ; — 
The blood that warms their hearts shall stain 

That banner, ere they yield it. 
Each dark eye is fixed on earth, 

And brief each solemn greeting ; — 
There is no look nor sound of mirth, 

Where those stern men are meeting. 

They go to the slaughter, 

To strike the sudden blow, 
And pour on earth, like water, 

The best blood of the foe ; 
To rush on them from rock and height, 

And clear the narrow valley, 
Or fire their camp at dead of night, 

And fly before they rally. 
Chains are round our country pressed, 

And cowards have betrayed her ; 
And we must make her bleeding breast 

The grave of the invader. 






Not till from her fetters 
We raise up Greece again, 

And write, in bloody letters, 
That tyranny is slain, — 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 161 

Oh ! not till then the smile shall steal 

Across those darkened faces, 
Nor one of all those warriors feel 

His children's dear embraces. 
Reap we not the ripened wheat, 

Till yonder hosts are flying, 
And all their bravest, at our feet, 

Like autumn sheaves are lying. 



Exercise LXXX. 

Rollers Address to the Peruvians. — Sheridan. 

My brave associates — partners of my toil, my feelings, 
and my fame ! — can Holla's words add vigor to the vir- 
tuous energies which inspire your hearts 1 No ! — you 
have judged as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by 
which these bold invaders would delude you. — Your gen- 
erous spirit has compared as mine has, the motives which, 
in a war like this, can animate their minds, and ours. 
They, by a strange phrensy driven, fight for power, for 
plunder, and extended rule : — we for our country, our 
altars, and our homes. They follow an adventurer whom 
they fear, and obey a power which they hate : — we serve 
a monarch whom we love, a God whom we adore. — 
Where'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their 
progress ! Where'er they pause in amity, affliction 
mourns their friendship. They boast they come but to 
improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from 
the yoke of error ! — Yes : — they will give enlightened 
freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of 
passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protec- 
tion — yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs — 
covering and devouring them ! They call on us to bar- 
ter all of good we have enhanced and proved, for the 
desperate chance of something better which they promise. 
Be our plain answer this : — The throne we honor is the 
people's choice, — the laws we reverence are our brave 
fathers' legacy, — the faith we follow teaches us to live in 
bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope of 
bliss beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this; and 
tell them, too, we seek no change ; and, least of all, such 
change as they would bring us. 



162 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Exercise LXXXI 
Malt Sermon. — Anon. 

[A discourse preached, extempore, out of a hollow tree, 
by a juvenile sermonizer, to a few lovers of malt liquor, 
at their own special request.] 

Beloved, let me crave your attention for a few minutes; 
for I am a little man, come at short warning, to preach a 
brief sermon, upon a small subject, to a thin congregation, 
in an unworthy pulpit. And now, my beloved, my text 
is Malt. 

I cannot divide it into sentences, — because there are 
none ; nor into words, because there is but one; nor into 
syllables, because, on the whole, it is a monosyllable. 
Therefore, necessity compels me to divide it into letters, 
which I find in my text to be these four, — M, A, L, T ; 
which will furnish us with the four following heads of dis- 
course. First, M, my beloved, is moral ; secondly, A, is 
allegorical ; thirdly, L, is literal; fourthly, T, is theo- 
logical. 

First, therefore, of M, the moral, which is well set forth, 
to teach you tipplers good manners; wherefore, M, my 
masters, A, all of you, L, listen, T, to my text. 

Secondly, A, the allegorical ; which is when one thing 
is spoken, and another thing is meant. Now the thing 
spoken is bare malt ; but the thing meant is strong beer, 
which you gnostics make, M, meat, A, apparel, L, liberty, 
T, treason. 

Thirdly, L, the Literal, is according to the letter. M, 
muck, A, ale, E, little, T, thirst. Much ale : little thirst. 

Fourthly, T, the theological, is according to the effects 
which it works. These, I find in my text, to be of two 
kinds ; first, of this world ; secondly, of the world to come. 
In this world the effects which it works are in some, M, 
mischief ; in others, A, absquatulating ; in some, L, loose 
living ; in all, T, trouble. In the world to come, in some, 
M, misery ; in others, A, anguish ; in some, L, lamenta- 
tion ; in others, T, torment. 

Wherefore, my first use shall be of exhortation. M, 
my masters, A, all of you, L, leave off, T, tippling; or 
else, secondly, by way of warning I say, M, my masters, 
A, all of you, L, look for, T, torment. 

So much for this time and text, only, by way of final 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 163 

warning, take this : lastly, — A drunkard is the murderer 
of modesty, the waster of wealth, the sore of society, the 
ruiner of reason, the agent of the ale-house, the brewer's 
benefactor, the beggar's boon-companion, the constable's 
curse, his wife's woe, his offspring's oppressor, and his 
neighbor's nuisance. 

Wherefore, in conclusion, M, my masters, A, all of you, 
L, leave off^ T, totally, MALT, — meaning the liquor 
thereof. 



Exercise LXXXII. 
The Cold-water Man. — Anon. 

There lived an honest fisherman, 

I knew him passing well — 
"Who dwelt hard by a little pond, 

Within a little dell. 

A grave and quiet man was he, 

Who loved his hook and rod ; 
So even ran his line of life, 

His neighbors thought it odd. 

For science and for books, he said, 

He never had a wish ; 
No school to him was worth a fig, 

Except a "school" offish. 

This single-minded fisherman, 

A double calling had, — j 

To tend his flocks, in winter-time, 

In summer, fish for shad. 

In short, this honest fisherman, 

All other toils forsook ; 
And though no vagrant man was he, 

He lived by " JiooJc and crook" 

All day that fisherman would sit 

Upon an ancient log, 
And gaze into the water, like 

Some sedentary frog. 

A cunning fisherman was he ; 
His angles all were right ; 



164 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And, when he scratched his aged poll, 
You'd know he'd got a bite. 

To charm the fish he never spoke, 
Although his voice was fine ; 

He found the most convenient way, 
Was just to " drop a line." 

And many a " gudgeon" of the pond, 

If made to speak to-day, 
Would own with grief, this angler had 

A mighty " taking way" 

One day, while fishing on the log, 
He mourned his want of luck, — 

When, suddenly, he felt a bite, 
And jerking — caught a duck ! 

Alas ! that day, the fisherman 
Had taken too much grog ; 

And being but a landsman, too, 
He couldn't "keep the log." 

In vain he strove with all his might, 
And tried to gain the shore ; — 

Down, down he went to feed the fish 
He'd baited oft before ! 

The moral of this mournful tale 
To all is plain and clear : — 

A single " drop too much" of rum, 
May make a watery bier. 

And he who will not " sign the pledge," 
And keep his promise fast, 

May be, in spite of fate, a stark 
Gold-water-man, at last. 



Exercise LXXXIIL 
The African Chief. — W. C. Bryant. 

Chained in the market-place he stood, 

A man of giant frame, 
Amid the gathering multitude 

That shrunk to hear his name, — 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 165 

All stern of look and strong of limb, 

His dark eye on the ground ; — 
And silently they gazed on him, 

As on a lion bound. 

Vainly, but well, that chief had fought, — 

He was a captive now ; 
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, 

Was written on his brow. 
The scars his dark broad bosom wore, 

Showed warrior true and brave ; 
A prince among his tribe before, 

He could not be a slave. 

• 

Then to his conqueror he spake — 

" My brother is a king ; 
Undo this necklace from my neck, 

And take this bracelet ring, 
And send me where my brother reigns, 

And I will fill thy hands 
With store of ivory from the plains, 

And gold-dust from the sands." 

" Not for thy ivory nor thy gold 

Will I unbind thy chain ; — 
That bloody hand shall never hold 

The battle-spear again. 
A price thy nation never gave, 

Shall yet be paid for thee ; 
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, 

In lands beyond the sea." f i 

Then wept the warrior chief, and bade 

To shred his locks away ; 
And, one by one, each heavy braid 

Before the victor lay. 
Thick were the plaited locks', and long, 

And, deftly hidden there, 
Shone many a wedge of gold, among 

The dark and crisped hair. 

* Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold 

Long kept for sorest need ; 
Take it — thou askest sums untold, 

And say that I am freed. 



166 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Take it — my wife, the long, long day 

Weeps by the cocoa-tree, 
And my young children leave their play, 

And ask in vain for me." 

" I take thy gold, — but I have made 

Thy fetters fast and strong, 
And ween that by the cocoa shade 

Thy wife will wait thee long." 
Strong was the agony that shook 

The captive's frame to hear, 
And the proud meaning of his look 

Was changed to mortal fear. 

His heart was broken — crazed his brain : 

At once his eye grew wild ; 
He struggled fiercely with his chain, 

Whispered, and wept, and smiled ; 
Yet wore not long those fatal bands, 

And once, at shut of day, 
They drew him forth upon the sands, 

The foul hyena's prey. 



Exercise LXXXIV. 
Eloquence of James Otis. — L. M. Child. 

England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile 
with bulrushes, as fetter the step of freedom, more proud 
and firm in this youthful land, than where she treads the 
sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches herself among 
the magnificent mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary prin- 
ciples, like those against which we now contend, have cost 
one king of England his life, another his crown ; — and 
they may yet cost a third his most flourishing colonies. 

We are two millions, — one fifth fighting men. We are 
bold and vigorous, — and we call no man master. To the 
nation from which we are proud to derive our origin, we 
ever were, and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced 
assistance ; but it must not, and it never can be extorted. 

Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans too 
poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper V No ! 
America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the 
right to take ten pounds, implies the right to take a thou- 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 167 

sand ; and what must be the wealth, that avarice, aided by 
power, cannot exhaust 1 True, the spectre is now small ; 
but the shadow he casts before him is huge enough to 
darken all this fair land. 

Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt 
of gratitude which we owe to England. And what is the 
amount of this debt 1 Why, truly, it is the same that the 
young lion owes to the dam, which has brought it forth on 
the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid the winds 
and storms of the desert. 

We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of 
freedom in our teeth, because the fagot and torch were 
behind us. We have waked this new world from its sav- 
age lethargy ; forests have been prostrated in our path ; 
towns and cities have grown up suddenly as the flowers 
of the tropics, and the fires in our autumnal woods are 
scarcely more rapid, than the increase of our wealth and 
population. 

And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the mother- 
country 1 No ! we owe it to the tyranny, that drove us 
from her, — to the pelting storms, which invigorated our 
helpless infancy. 

But perhaps others will say, "We ask no money from 
your gratitude, — we only demand that you should pay 
your own expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of 
their necessity 1 Why, the king — (and, with all due rev- 
erence to his sacred majesty, he understands the real wants 
of his distant subjects as little as he does the language of 
the Choctaws.) Who is to judge concerning the frequen- 
cy of these demands 1 The ministry. Who is to judge 
whether the money is properly expended ] The cabinet 
behind the throne. 

In every instance, those who take, are to judge for 
those who pay ; if this system is suffered to go into oper- 
ation, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, 
that rain and dew do not depend upon Parliament ; other- 
wise they would soon be taxed and dried. 

But thanks to God, there is freedom enough left upon 
earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of 
liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome ; but the light 
of its glowing embers is still bright and strong on the 
shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influence, we 
will resist unto death. But we will not countenance an- 



168 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

archy and misrule. The wrongs, that a desperate com- 
munity have heaped upon their enemies, shall be amply 
and speedily repaired ; it may be well for some proud 
men to remember, that a fire is lighted in these colonies, 
which one breath of their king may kindle into such fury 
that the blood of all England cannot extinguish it. 



Exercise LXXXV. 
The Death of Aliatar. — W. C. Bryant. 

'Tis not with gilded sabres 

That gleam in baldrics blue, 
Nor nodding plumes in caps of fez, 

Of gay and gaudy hue, — 
But, habited in mourning weeds, 

Come marching from afar, 
By four and four, the valiant men 

Who fought with Aliatar. 
All mournfully and slowly 

The afflicted warriors come, 
To the deep wail of the trumpet, 

And beat of muffled drum. 

The banner of the phenix, 

The flag that loved the sky, 
That scarce the wind dared wanton with, 

It flew so proud and high, — 
Now leaves its place in battle-field, 

And sweeps the ground with grief, — 
The bearer drags its glorious folds 

Behind the fallen chief, 
As mournfully and slowly 

The afflicted warriors come, 
To the deep wail of the trumpet, 

And beat of muffled drum. 

Brave Aliatar led forward 

A hundred Moors, to go 
To where his brother held Motril 

Against the leaguering foe. 
On horseback went the gallant Moor, 

That gallant band to lead ; 
And now his bier is at the gate, 

From whence he spurred his steed. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 169 

While mournfully and slowly 

The afflicted warriors come, 
To the deep wail of the trumpet, 

And beat of muffled drum. 

The knights of the Grand Master 

In crowded ambush lay ; 
They rushed upon him where the reeds 

Were thick beside the way ; 
They smote the valiant Aliatar, 

They smote him till he died ; 
And broken, but not beaten, were 

The brave ones by his side. 
Now mournfully and slowly 

The afflicted warriors come, 
To the deep wail of the trumpet, 

And beat of muffled drum. 

Oh ! what was Zayda's sorrow, 

How passionate her cries ! 
Her lover's wounds streamed not more free 

Than that poor maiden's eyes. 
Say, Love — for thou didst see her tears : 

Oh ! no : — he drew more tight 
The blinding fillet o'er his lids, 

To spare his eyes the sight, 
While mournfully and slowly 

The afflicted warriors come, 
To the deep wail of the trumpet, 

And beat of muffled drum. 

Nor Zayda weeps him only, 

But all that dwell between 
The great Alhambra's palace walls 

And springs of Albaicin. 
The ladies weep the flower of knights ; 

The brave, the bravest here ; 
The people weep a champion, 

The Alcaydes a noble peer, 
While mournfully and slowly 

The afflicted warriors come, 
To the deep wail of the trumpet, 

And beat of muffled drum. 
H 



170 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 



Exercise LXXXVI. 

Tfie Exile of Erin. — Campbell. 

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin, — 
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill ; 

For his country he sighed, when, at twilight, repairing 
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill : 

But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion ; 

For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, 

Where once, in the fervor of youth's warm emotion ; 
He sung the bold anthem of Erin go bragh ! 

Sad is my fate ! — said the heart-broken stranger — 
The wild deer and wolf to the covert can flee ; 

But I have no refuge from famine and danger : 
A home and a country remain not to me ! 

Never again, in the green sunny bowers, 

Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours, 

Or cover my harp with wild-woven flowers, 
And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh ! 

Erin ! my country ! though sad and forsaken, 

In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ! 
But, alas ! in a far — foreign land I awaken, 

And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more ! 
O cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me 
In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase me ? 
Never again shall my brothers embrace me ? 

They died to defend me ! — or live to deplore ! 

Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood ? — 

Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall ? 
Where is the mother that looked on my childhood ? 

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all ? 
Ah ! my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure ! 
Why did it dote on a fast-fading treasure ? 
Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall without measure, 

But rapture and beauty they cannot recall ! 

Yet all its sad recollections suppressing, 

One dying wish my lone bosom can draw ; — 

Erin ! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing ! 
Land of my forefathers ! Erin go bragh ! 

Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion, 

Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean ! 

And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion, — 
Erin mavournin — Erin go bragh ! 






PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 171 

Exercise LXXXVII. 

The Fathers of Massachusetts. — E. Everett. 

The venerable foundations of our Republic, fellow- 
citizens, were laid on the very spot where we stand ; by 
the fathers of Massachusetts. Here, before they were 
able to erect a suitable place for worship, they were 
wont, beneath the branches of a spreading tree, to com- 
mend their wants, their sufferings, and their hopes to Him, 
that dwelleth not in houses made with hands ; here they 
erected their first habitations ; here they gathered their 
first church ; here they made their first graves. 

Yes, on the very spot where we are assembled, crowned 
with this spacious church ; surrounded by the comfortable 
abodes of a dense population ; there were, during the first 
season, after the landing of Winthrop, fewer dwellings 
for the living, than graves for the dead. It seemed the 
will of Providence, that our fathers should be tried, by 
the extremities of either season. "When the Pilgrims ap- 
proached the coast of Plymouth, they found it clad with 
all the terrors of a northern winter : 

The sea around was black with storms, 
And white the shore with snow. 

The Massachusetts company arrived at the close of 
June. No vineyards, as now, clothed our inhospitable 
hill-sides ; no blooming orchards, as at the present day, 
wore the livery of Eden, and loaded the breeze with 
sweet odors ; no rich pastures nor waving crops stretched 
beneath the eye, along the way-side, from village to vil- 
lage, as if Nature had been spreading her halls with a 
carpet, fit to be pressed by the footsteps of her descend- 
ing God ! The beauty and the bloom of the year had 
passed. The earth, not yet subdued by culture, bore 
upon its untilled bosom nothing but a dismal forest, that 
mocked their hunger with rank and unprofitable vegeta- 
tion. The sun was hot in the heavens. The soil was 
parched ; and the hand of man had not yet taught its se- 
cret springs to flow from their fountains. The wasting 
disease of the heart-sick mariner was upon the men ; — 
and the women and children thought of the pleasant 
homes of England, as they sunk down from day to day, 



172 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

and died, at last, for want of a cup of cold water, in this 
melancholy land of promise. 

We are gathered over the ashes of our forefathers. It 
is good, but solemn, to be here. We live on holy ground ; 
all our hill-tops are the altars of precious sacrifice : 

This is stored with the sacred dust of the first victims 
in the cause of liberty. 

And that is rich from the life-stream of the noble heart? 
who bled to sustain it. 

Here, beneath our feet, unconscious that we commemo- 
rate their worth, repose the meek and sainted martyrs, 
whose flesh sunk beneath the lofty temper of their noble 
spirits ; and there rest the heroes, who presented their 
dauntless foreheads to the god of battles, when he came to 
his awful baptism of blood and fire. 

Happy the fate, which has laid them so near to each 
other, the early and the latter champions of the one great 
cause ! And happy we, who are permitted to reap in 
peace the fruit of their costly sacrifice ! Happy, that we 
can make our pious pilgrimage to the smooth turf of that 
venerable summit, once ploughed with the wheels of mad- 
dening artillery, ringing with all the dreadful voices of 
war, wrapped in smoke and streaming with blood ! Hap- 
py, that here where our fathers sunk, beneath the burn- 
ing sun, into the parched clay, we live, and assemble, and 
mingle sweet counsel, and grateful thoughts of them, in 
comfort and peace. 



Exercise LXXXYIII. 

"Lodgings for Single Gentlemen." — Col man. 
Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, 
Has seen, " Lodgings to let" stare him full in the face. 
Some are good, and let dearly ; while some, 'tis well known, 
Are so dear and so bad, they are best let alone. 

Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, 
Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only ; 
But Will was so fat, that he looked like a tun, 
Or like two single gentlemen rolled into one. 

He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated ; 
But, all the night long he felt fevered and heated ; 
And, though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep, 
He was not by any means heavy to sleep. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 173 

Next night 'twas the same — and the next — and the next ; 
He perspired like an ox — he was nervous and vexed. 
Week passed after week, till, by weekly succession, 
His weakly condition was past all expression. 

In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him, 
For his skin " like a lady's loose-gown" hung about him. 
He sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny, 
" 1 have lost many pounds, — make me well, — there's a guinea." 

The doctor looked wise. " A slow fever," he said — • 

Prescribed sudorifics and going to bed. — 

" Sudorifics in bed," cried Will, "are humbugs; 

I've enough of them there without paying for drugs !" 

Will kicked out the doctor ; but when ill, indeed, 
E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed : 
So, calling his host, he said, " Sir, do you know, 
I'm the fat single gentleman six months ago ?" 

Quoth the landlord, " Till now I ne'er had a dispute, 
I've let lodgings ten years ; — I'm a baker to boot. 
In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven, 
And your bed is immediately over my oven." 

" The oven /" cries Will. Says the host, " Why this passion ? 
In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 
Why so crusty, good sir?" — " Zounds !" cries Will in a taking, — 
" Who wouldn't be crusty with half a year's baking?" 

Will paid for his rooms. — Cried the host, with a sneer, 
" Well, I see you've been going away half a year." 
" Friend, we can't well agree, yet no quarrel," Will said ; 
"But I'd rather not perish while you make your bread." 



Exercise LXXXIX. 
To the Evening Wind. — W. C. Bryant. 

Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou 
That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day, 

Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow ; 
Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, 

Itiding, all day, the wild blue waves till now, 

Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray 

And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee 

To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea ! 

Nor I alone, — a thousand bosoms round 
Inhale thee in the fullness of delight ; 



174 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound 
Livelier, at coming of the wind of night ; 

And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound, 
Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight. 

Go forth, into the gathering shade ; go forth, 

God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth ! 

Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest, 

Curl the still waters, bright with stars ; and rouse 

The wide old wood from his majestic rest, 
Summoning from the innumerable boughs 

The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast : 
Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows 

The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, 

And 'twixt the o'ershadowing branches and the grass. 

The faint old man shall lean his silver head 
To feel thee ; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, 

And dry the moistened curls that overspread 

His temples, while his breathing grows more deep ; 

And they who stand about the sick man's bed, 
Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep, 

And softly part his curtains to allow 

Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. 

Go — but the circle of eternal change, 
Which is the life of nature, shall restore, 

With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range, 
Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more : 

Sweet odors in the sea-air, sweet and strange, 
Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore ; 

And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem 

He hears the rustling leaf and running stream. 



Exercise XC. 
Norval and Glenalvon. — Home. 

Glen. His port I love : he's in a proper mood 
To chide the thunder, if at him it roared. — [Aside. 
Has Norval seen the troops % 

Norv. The setting sun 
With yellow radiance lighted all the vale ; 
And as the warriors moved, each polished helm, 
Corselet, or spear, glanced back his gilded beams. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 175 

The hill they climbed ; and, halting at its top, 
Of more than mortal size, towering, they seemed 
A host angelic, clad in burning arms. 

Glen. Thou talk'st it well ; no leader of our host 
In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war. 

Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name, 
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty 
Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration 
Vents itself freely ; since no part is mine 
Of praise pertaining to the great in arms. 

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your martial deeds 
Have ranked you with the great. But mark me, Norval; 
Lord Randolph's favor now exalts your youth 
Above his veterans of famous service. 
Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you. 
Give them all honor : seem not to command, 
Else they will hardly brook your late-sprung power, 
Which nor alliance props nor birth adorns. 

Norv. Sir, I have been accustomed all my days 
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth ; 
And though I have been told that there are men 
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn, 
Yet in such language I am little skilled : 
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel, 
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind 
Me of my birth obscure 1 Why slur my power 
With such contemptuous terms % 

Glen. I did not mean 
To gall your pride, which now I see is great. 

Norv. My pride ! 

Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper. — 
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake, 
I will not leave you to its rash direction. 
If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men, 
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn % 

Norv. A shepherd's scorn ! 
.Glen. Yes; if you presume 
To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes, 
As if you took the measure of their minds, 
And said in secret, You're no match for me, 
What will become of you % 

Norv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self] 

Glen. Ha ! dost thou threaten me ? 



176 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Norv. Didst thou not hear 1 

Glen. Unwillingly I did ; a nobler foe 
Had not been questioned thus ; but such as thee— • 

Norv. Whom dost thou think me ] 

Glen. Norval. 

Norv. So I am — 
And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes % 

Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy ; 
At best no more, even if he speaks the truth. 

Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth? 

Glen. Thy truth ! thou'rt all a lie ; and false as hell 
Is the vainglorious tale thou told'st to Randolph. 

Norv. If I were chained, unarmed, or bedrid old, 
Perhaps I should revile ; but as I am, 
I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval 
Is of a race who strive not but with deeds. 
Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valor, 
And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword, 
I'd tell thee — what thou art. I know thee well. 

Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to command 
Ten thousand slaves like thee 1 

Norv. Villain, no more ! 
Draw and defend thy life. I did design 
To have defied thee in another cause ; 
But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee. 
Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs. 

Lord Ran. [Enters.] Hold ! I command you both ! the 
Makes me his foe. [man that stirs 

Norv. Another voice than thine, 
That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph. 

Glen. Hear him, my lord ; he's wondrous condescending! 
Mark the humility of shepherd Norval ! 

Norv. Now you may scoff in safety. [Sheathes his sword. 

Lord Ran. Speak not thus, 
Taunting each other, but unfold to me 
The cause of quarrel ; then I judge betwixt you. 

Norv. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much, 
My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment. 
I blush to speak : I will not, cannot speak 
The opprobrious words that I from him have borne. 
To the liege lord of my dear native land 
I owe a subject's homage ; but even him 
And his high arbitration I'd reject. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 177 

Within my bosom reigns another lord ; 
Honor, sole judge and umpire of itself. 
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph, 
Revoke your favors, and let Norval go 
Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonored ! 

Lord Ran. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice; 
The ancient foe of Caledonia's land 
Now waves his banner o'er her frighted fields ; 
Suspend your purpose till your country's arms 
Repel the bold invader ; then decide 
The private quarrel. 

Glen. I agree to this. 

Norv. And I. 



Exercise XCI. 
Belisarius's Opinion of Military Glory. — Marmontel. 

Why, of all the various kinds of glory, must renown in 
arms hold the foremost place? — Do you think the pleasure 
that springs from conquest has a sincere and lasting charm 
in it 1 Alas ! when millions are stretched in mangled 
heaps upon the field of battle, can the mind in that situa- 
tion taste of joy? I can make allowance for those who 
have met danger in all its shapes ; they may be permitted 
to congratulate themselves, that they have escaped with 
their lives ; but in the case of a king born with sensibility 
of heart, the day that spills a deluge of human blood, and 
bids the tears of natural affection flow in rivers round the 
land, that cannot be a day of true enjoyment. 

I have more than once traversed over a field of battle ; 
I would have been glad to have seen a Nero in my place ; 
the tears of humanity must have burst from him. I know 
there are princes who take the pleasure of a campaign, 
as they do that of hunting, and who send forth their people 
to the fray, as they let slip their dogs ; but the rage of 
conquest is like the unrelenting temper of avarice, which 
torments itself, and is to the last insatiable. A province 
has been invaded; it has been subdued; it lies contiguous 
to another not yet attempted ; desire begins to kindle ; 
invasion happens after invasion ; ambition irritates itself 
to new projects, till at length comes a reverse of fortune, 
which exceeds, in the mortification it brings, all the pride 
and joy of former victories. 

H2 



178 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

But to give things every flattering appearance, let us 
suppose a train of uninterrupted success : yet, even in that 
case, the conqueror pushes forward, like another Alex- 
ander, to the limits of the world, and then, like him, re- 
measures back his course, fatigued with triumphs, a burden 
to himself and mankind, at a loss what to do with the im- 
mense tracts which he has depopulated, and melancholy 
with the reflection that an acre of his conquests would 
suffice to maintain him, and a little pit-hole to hide his 
remains from the world. In my youth I saw the sepulchre 
of Cyrus ; a stone bore this inscription : " I am Cyrus, he 
who subdued the Persian Empire. Friend, whoever thou 
art, or wherever thy native country, envy me not the 
scanty space that covers my clay-cold ashes." — Alas ! said 
J, turning aside from the mournful epitaph, is it worth 
while to be a conqueror 1 



Exercise XCII. 
The Battles on the Rio Grande.-, — T. B. Thayer. 

Hark! it comes at last, the war cry, 
From the Rio Grande's shore ; — 

And the answer, backward rolling, 
Mingles with the battle's roar. 

Ho ! our country's flag — I see it 
Mid the thickening fire and smoke, 

Where our little band of brave ones 
Face the storm like hearts of oak. 

See, their squadrons sweeping onward, 

Like an arrow in its flight, 
Over ditch and rampart bounding, 

Dash amid the thickest fight, 

And their comrades, pressing forward, 

Mid the rush of cannon shot ; 
With the deadly bayonet charging, 

Drive the foemen from the spot. 

See! their routed columns flying, 

Shattered by the fearful shock, 
Like the waves that have been broken, 

Rolling on a shore of rock. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 179 

Now the shout of triumph rises 

From that noble Spartan band, — 
Sweeping onward, full and earnest, 

Far along the sea and land. 

Hark ! for now their country answers, 

With a shout as loud and clear, 
Like the voice of many thunders 

Breaking on the startled air. 

Honor to the brave ! her voice is ; 

Laurel for each warrior's head; 
Places on the page of glory 

For the living and the dead ! 

But now another voice is rising 

Slowly on the burdened air, — 
Mingled groans of wounded, dying, 

Screams of madness and despair ; 

Cries of widows and of orphans, — 

Fathers', mothers', sisters' wail 
O'er the mangled, bloody corses, 

Crushed beneath that iron hail. 

And the battle-field — how frightful ! 

Now night's veil is rolled away, 
And its ghastly sights of suffering 

Stand revealed in open day ! 

Gracious God ! oh ! speed the ages, 
When these death-strifes shall be o'er, 

And. their swords to ploughshares beating, 
Nations shall learn war no more ! 



Exercise XC1II. 
The Soldier's Anticipation of Peace. — Coleridge. 

Oh ! let the emperor make peace ! 

Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel 

For the first violet of the leafless spring, 

Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed ! 

Oh ! that sight, 
It glimmers still before me, like some landscape 
Left in the distance, — some delicious landscape ! 



180 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

O day, thrice lovely ! when at length the soldier 

Returns home into life ; when he becomes 

A fellow-man among his fellow-men. 

The colors are unfurled, the cavalcade 

Marshals, and now the buzz is hushed ; and hark ! 

Now the soft peace-march beats, Home, brothers, home ! 

The caps and helmets are all garlanded 

With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields. 

The city gates fly open of themselves, 

They need no longer the petard to tear them. 

The ramparts are all filled with men and women, 

With peaceful men and women, that send onward 

Kisses and welcomings upon the air, 

Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures. 

From all the towers rings out the merry peal, 

The joyous vespers of a bloody day. 

O happy man, O fortunate ! for whom 

The well-known door, the faithful arms are open, 

The faithful tender arms with mute embracing. 



Exercise XCIV. 

Peace. — Thomson. 

O first of human blessings ; and supreme ! 

Fair Peace ! how lovely, how delightful thou ! 

By whose wide tie, the kindred sons of men 

Like brothers live, in amity combined, 

And unsuspicious faith ; while honest toil 

Gives every joy, and to those joys a right 

Which idle, barbarous rapine but usurps. 

Pure is thy reign ; when, unaccursed by blood, 

Naught, save the sweetness of indulgent showers, 

Trickling distils into the vernant glebe. — 

O Peace ! thou source and soul of social life ! 

Beneath whose calm inspiring influence 

Science his views enlarges, art refines, 

And swelling commerce opens all her ports ; 

Blest be the man divine, who gives us thee ! 

Who bids the trumpet hush his horrid clang, 

Nor blow the giddy nations into rage ; 

Who sheathes the murderous blade ; the deadly gun 

Into the well-piled armory returns ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 181 

And, every vigor from the work of death, 

To grateful industry converting, makes 

The country flourish, and the city smile. 

Of him the shepherd, in the peaceful dale 

Chants ; and, the treasures of his labor sure, 

The husbandman of him, as at the plough, 

Or team, he toils. With him the sailor soothes, 

Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight wave : 

And the full city, warm, from street to street, 

And shop to shop, responsive, sings of him. 

Nor joys one land alone ; his praise extends 

Far as the sun rolls his diffusive day ; 

Far as the breeze can bear the gifts of peace, 

Till all the happy nations catch the song. 



Exercise XCV. 
"Peace and War. — Shelley. 

How beautiful this night ! the balmiest sigh, 

Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear, 

Were discord to the speaking quietude 

That wraps the moveless scene. Heaven's ebon vault, 

Studded with stars unutterably bright, 

Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, 

Seems like a canopy which Love had spread 

To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, 

Robed in a garment of untrodden snow ; 

Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend, 

So stainless, that their white and glittering spires 

Tinge not the moon's pure beam ; yon castled steep, 

Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower 

So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it 

A metaphor of peace ; — all form a scene 

Where musing solitude might love to lift 

Her soul above this sphere of earthliness ; 

Where silence undisturbed might watch alone, 

So cold, so bright, so still. — 

Ah ! whence yon glare 
That fires the arch of heaven % — That dark red smoke 
Blotting the silver moon % The stars are quenched 
In darkness, and the pure and spangling snow 
Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round ! 



182 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening peals 
In countless echoes through the mountain ring, 
Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne ! 
Now swells the intermingling din; the jar, 
Frequent and frightful, of the bursting bomb; 
The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the shout, 
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men 
Inebriate with rage : — loud, and more loud 
The discord grows ; till pale death shuts the scene, 
And o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws 
His cold and bloody shroud. — Of all the men 
Whom day's departing beam saw blooming there, 
In proud and vigorous health ; of all the hearts 
That beat with anxious life at sunset there ; 
How few survive, how few are beating now ! 
All is deep silence, like the fearful calm 
That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; 
Save when the frantic wail of widowed love 
Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moan, 
With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay 
Wrapt round its struggling powers. 

The gray morn 
Dawns on the mournful scene ; the sulphurous smoke 
Before the icy wind slow rolls away ; 
And the bright beams of frosty morning dance 
Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood 
Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, 
And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments 
Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path 
Of the outsallying victors : far behind, 
Black ashes note where their proud city stood. 
Within yon forest is a gloomy glen — 
Each tree which guards its darkness from the day 
Waves o'er a warrior's tomb. 



Exercise XCVI. 
The Colonists. — Dr. Aikin. 

Mr. Barlow, Arthur, Beverly, Charles, Delville, Ed- 
ward, Francis, George, Henry, Jasper, Lewis, Maurice, 
Oliver, Philip, and Robert. 

Mr. Barlow. Come, my boys, I have a new play for 



F1EGES FOR PRACTICE. 183 

you. I will be the founder of a colony ; and you shall be 
people of different trades and professions, coming to offer 
yourselves to go with me. — What are you, Arthur ] 

Arthur. I am a farmer, sir. 

Mr. B. Very well. Farming is the chief thing we have 
to depend upon. The farmer puts the seed into the earth, 
and takes care of it, when it is grown to the ripe corn ; 
without the farmer we should have no bread. But you 
must work very hard ; there will be trees to cut 'down, 
and roots to drag out, and a great deal of labor. 

Arthur. I shall be ready to do my part. 

Mr. B. Well, then I shall take you willingly, and as 
many more such good fellows as you can find. We shall 
have land enough ; and you may fall to work as soon as 
you please. Now for the next. 

Beverly. I am a miller, sir. 

Mr. B. A very useful trade ! our corn must be ground, 
or it will do us but little good. What must we do for a 
mill, my friend ] 

Bev. I suppose we must make one. 

Mr. B. Then we must take a mill-wriglit with us, and 
carry mill-stones. Who is next 1 

Charles. I am a carpenter, sir. 

Mr. B. The most necessary man that could oner. We 
shall find you work enough, never fear. There will be 
houses to build, fences to make, and chairs and tables be- 
sides. But all our timber is growing ; we shall have hard 
work to fell it, to saw boards and planks, to hew timber, 
and to frame and raise buildings. 

Charles. I will do my best, sir. 

Mr. B. Then I engage you ; but you had better bring 
two or three able hands along with you. 

Delville. I am a blacksmith. 

Mr. B. An excellent companion for the carpenter. 
We cannot do without either of you. You must bring 
your great bellows, anvil, and vice ; and we will set up a 
forge for you, as soon as we arrive. By the by, we shall 
want a mason for that. 

Edivard. I am one, sir. 

Mr. B. Though we may live in log houses at first, we 
shall want brick- work, or stone- work, for chimneys, hearths, 
and ovens ; so there will be employment for a mason. 
Can you make bricks and burn lime \ 



184 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Ed. I will try what I can do, sir. 

Mr. B. No man can do more. I engage you. Who 
is next % 

Francis. I am a shoemaker. 

Mr. B, Shoes we cannot do well without ; but I fear we 
shall get no leather. 

Francis. But I can dress skins, sir. 

Mr. B. Can you 1 Then you are a clever fellow. I 
will have you, though I give you double wages. 

George. I am a tailor, sir. 

Mr. B. We must not go naked ; so there will be work 
for the tailor. But you are not above mending, I hope; 
for we must not mind wearing patched clothes, while we 
work in the woods. 

Geo. I am not, sir. 

Mr. B. Then I engage you, too. 

Henry. I am a silversmith, sir. 

Mr. B. Then, my friend, you cannot go to a worse 
place than a new colony to set up your trade in. 

Hen. But I understand clock and watch making too. 

Mr. B. We shall want to know how time goes ; but 
we cannot afford to employ you, at present : you had 
better stay where you are. 

Jasper. I am a barber and hair dresser. 

Mr. B. What can we do with you % If you will shave 
our men's rough beards once a week, and crop their hair 
once a quarter, and be content to help the carpenter the 
rest of the time, we will take you. But you will have no 
ladies to curl, or gentlemen to powder, I assure you. 

Lewis. I am a doctor. 

Mr. B. Then, sir, you are very welcome ; we shall 
some of us be sick ; and we are likely to get cuts, and 
bruises, and broken bones. You will be very useful. 
We shall take you with pleasure. 

Maurice. I am a lawyer, sir. 

Mr. B. Sir, your most obedient servant. When we 
are rich enough to go to law, we will let you know. 

Oliver. I am a schoolmaster. 

Mr. B. That is a very respectable and useful profession. 
As soon as our children are old enough we shall be glad 
of your services. Though we are hard-working men, we 
do not mean to be ignorant ; every one among us must be 
taught reading and writing. Until we have employment 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 185 

for you in teaching, if you will keep our accounts, and at 
present read sermons to us on Sundays, we shall be glad 
to have you among us. Will you go 1 

Oliver. With all my heart, sir. 

Mr. B. Who comes here % 

Philip. I am a soldier, sir; will you have me! 

Mr. B. We are peaceable people ; and I hope we shall 
not be obliged to fight. We are all soldiers, and must 
learn to defend ourselves ; we shall have no occasion for 
you, unless you can be a mechanic or a farmer, as well as 
a soldier. 

Robert. I am a gentleman, sir. 

Mr. B. A gentleman ! And what good can you do us 1 

Rob. I expect to shoot game enough for my own eat- 
ing ; you can give me a little bread and a few vegetables; 
and the barber shall be my servant. 

Mr. B. Pray, sir, why should we do all this for you % 

Rob. Why, sir, that you may have the credit of saying 
that you have one gentleman, at least, in your colony. 

Mr. B. Ha ! ha ! ha ! A fine gentleman, truly. Sir, 
when we desire the honor of your company, we will send 
for you. 



Exercise XCVII. 

Scenes from the " Little Merchants." 

Scene I. — Piedro and Francisco. 

Piedro. This is your morning's work, I presume ; and 
you'll make another journey to Naples to-day, on the 
same errand, I warrant, before your father thinks you 
have done enough. 

Francisco. Not before my father thinks I have done 
enough, but before I think so myself. 

P. I do enough to satisfy myself and my father, too, 
without slaving myself after your fashion. Look here 
(showing money). All this was had for asking for ; it is 
no bad thing, you'll allow, to know how to ask for money 
properly. 

F. I should be ashamed to beg, or borrow either. 

P. Neither did I get what you see by begging or by bor- 
rowing either, but by using my wits — not as you did yes- 
terday, when, like a novice, you showed the bruised side 



186 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

of your melon, and so spoiled your market by your wis- 
dom. 

F. Wisdom I think it still. 

P. And your father 1 

F. And my father. 

P. Mine is of a different way of thinking : he always 
tells me, that the buyer has need of a hundred eyes, and 
if one can blind the whole hundred, so much the better. 
You must know, I got off the fish to-day, that my father 
could not sell yesterday, in the market. — Got it off for 
fresh, just out of the river — got twice as much as the 
market-price for it, and from whom, think you 1 Why, from 
the very booby that would have bought the bruised melon 
for a good one, if you would have let him. You'll allow 
I am no fool, Francisco, and that I am in a fair way to 
grow rich, if I go on as I have begun. 

F. Stay, — you forgot that the booby you took in to-day 
will not be so easily taken in to-morrow. He will buy 
no more fish from you, because he will-be afraid of your 
cheating him ; but he will be ready enough to buy fruit 
of me, because he will know I shall not cheat him. — So 
you'll have lost a customer, and I gained one. 

P. With all my heart. One customer does not make 
a market; if he buys no more, what care 1% there are 
people enough to buy fish in Naples. 

F. And do you mean to serve them all in the same 
manner ? 

P. If they will be only so good as to give me leave. 
" Venture a small fish to catch a large one !" 

F. You have never considered, then, that all these peo- 
ple will, one after another, find you out in time. 

P. Ay, in time ; but it will be some time first : there 
are a great many of them, — enough to last me all summer, 
if I lose a customer a day. 

F. And next summer, what will you do 1 

P. Next summer is not come yet ; there is time enough 
to think what I shall do, before next summer comes. 
Why, now, suppose the blockheads, after they had been 
taken in, and found it out, all joined against me, and 
would buy none of our fish. — What then % are there no 
trades, then, but that of a fisherman 1 In Naples, are there 
not a hundred ways of making money for a smart lad like 
me — as my father says 1 What do you think of turning 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 187 

merchant, and selling sugar-plums and cakes to the chil- 
dren in their market % Would they be hard to deal with, 
think you ] 

F. I think not. But I think the children would find it 
out in. time, if they were cheated, and would like it as 
little as the men. 

P. I don't doubt them ; then, in time, I could, you 
know, change my trade, sell chips and sticks in the wood- 
market ; hand about lemonade to the fine folks, or twen- 
ty other things : — there are trades enough for a man. 

F. Yes, for the honest dealer, but for no other ; for, in 
all of them, you'll find, as my father says, that a good 
character is the best fortune to set up with. Change your 
trade ever so often, you'll be found out for what you are, 
at last. 

P. And what am I, pray 1 The whole truth of the 
matter is, that you envy my good luck, and can't bear to 
hear this money jingle in my hand. " It's better to be 
lucky than wise," as my father says. Good-morning to 
you ; when I am found out for what I am, or when the 
worst comes to the worst, I can drive a stupid donkey with 
his panniers filled with rubbish, as well as you do now, 
honest Francisco ! 

F. Not quite so well ; — unless you were honest Fran- 
cisco, you would not fill his panniers quite so readily. 

Scene II. — Piedro, Francisco, Carlo, and others. 

Piedro at a stand on which are sweetmeats for sale, — a label on the 
stand : " The sweetest, largest, most admirable sugar-plums in Naples. 
Burnt almonds gratis !" 

Carlo. Ha ! what have we here % (stopping and reading 
aloud the label.) This promises rarely. Old as I am, and 
tall of my age, which makes the matter worse, I am still 
as fond of sugar-plums as my little sister, who is five years 
younger than I. Come, signor, fill me quick, for I'm in 
haste to taste them, two measures of " the sweetest, largest, 
most admirable sugar-plums in Naples," — one measure for 
myself, and one for my little Rosetta. 

Piedro. You'll pay for yourself and your sister, then ; 
for no credit is given here. 

C. No credit do I ask .When I told you I loved sugar- 
plums, did I tell you I loved them, or even my sister, so 
well as to run in debt for them ] Here's for myself, and 



188 



JUVENILE SPEAKER. 



here's for my sister's share, — (laying down his money,) 
and now for the burnt almonds gratis, my good fellow. 

P. They are all out : I have been out of burnt almonds 
this great while. 

C. Then why are they in your advertisement here 1 

P. I have not had time enough to scratch them out of 
the board. 

C. What, not when you have, by your own account, 
been out of them a great while ] I did not know it re- 
quired so much time to blot out a few words — let us try, 
(pulling a bit of chalk out of his pocket, and drawing aline 
on Piedro's board.) 

P. You are very impatient : I shall have a fresh stock 
of almonds to-morrow. 

C. Why must the board tell a lie to-day 1 

P. It would ruin me to alter it. 

C. A lie may ruin you ; but I could scarcely think the 
truth could. 

P. You have no right to meddle with me or my board. 
My character, and that of my board, are too firmly estab- 
lished now for any chance customer, like you, to injure. 

C. I never dreamed of injuring you or any one else : I 
wish, moreover, you may not injure yourself. Do as you 
please with your board ; but give me my sugar-plums, for 
I have some right to meddle with those, having paid for 
them. 

P. Hold out your hand, then. 

C. No, — put them into this box, if you please, put 
my sister's, at least, into it : she likes to have them in this 
box ; I bought some for her yesterday in it, and she'll 
think they'll taste the better out of that same box. But 
how is this % Your measure does not fill my box, near- 
ly : you give us very few sugar-plums for our money. 

P. I give you full measure, as I give to every body. 

C. The measure should be an inch cube, I know: that's 
what all the little merchants have agreed to, you know. 

P. True, so it is. 

C. And so it is, I must allow : (measuring the outside of 
it with the carpenter's rule which he takes from his pocket.) 
An inch every way ; — and yet, by my eye,— and I have 
no bad one, being used to measuring carpenter's work for 
my father, — by my eye, I should think this would have 
held more sugar-plums. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 189 

P. The eye often deceives us ; there's nothing like meas- 
uring, you find. 

C. There is nothing like measuring, I find, indeed, 
(measuring the cube with his rule.) This is not so deep by 
a quarter of an inch, Signor Piedro, measured within, 
as it is measured without. — (Shouting.) A discovery ! a 
discovery ! that concerns all who have ever bought " the 
sweetest, largest, and most admirable sugar-plums" ever 
sold in Naples. 

(Several Boys.) We have bought, and we have bought 
of those sugar-plums, if you mean Piedro's. 

C. The same, he who, out of gratitude to his numerous 
customers, gives, or promises to give, burnt almonds 
gratis S 

(Several voices.) Excellent they were. We all know 
Piedro well ; but what's your discovery 1 

C. My discovery is, that you, none of you know Piedro. 
Look you here ! — look at this box, this is his measure; — 
it has a false bottom, it only holds three quarters as much 
as it ought to do ; and his numerous customers have all 
been cheated of one quarter of every measure of " the ad- 
mirable sugar-plums" they have bought from him. 

(Several voices.) So, we have been finely duped, in- 
deed ! " Full of courtesy, full of craft." So this is the 
meaning of his burnt almonds gratis. 

C. [ To Francisco, who enters.] Is this Piedro a relation 
of yours ] I am sorry, if he be. that I have published his 
disgrace, for I would not hurt you ; you don't sell sugar- 
plums as he does, I'm sure ; for my little sister Rosetta 
has often bought from you. Can this Piedro be a friend 
of yours 1 

Francisco. I wished to have been his friend ; but I see 
I can't : he is a neighbor of ours ; and I pitied him. But 
since he is at his old tricks again, there's an end of the 
matter. I have reason to be obliged to you ; for I was 
nearly taken in. He has behaved so well for some time 
past, that I intended, this very evening, to have gone to 
him, and to have told him that I was willing to do for 
him what he has long begged of me to do, to enter into 
partnership with him. 

(Several voices.) Francisco ! Francisco ! your measure, 
lend us your measure ! You have a measure for sugar- 
plums ; and we have all agreed to refer to that, and to see 



190 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

how much we have been cheated, before we go to break 
Piedro's board, and declare him bankrupt, — the punish- 
ment for all knaves. — Common cause ! Common cause ! 
— The little Neapolitan merchants will have no knaves 
among them ! Break his bench ! Break his bench ! He 
is a bankrupt* in honesty. (They demolish his bench, and 
scatter about his sweetmeats.) 



Exercise XCVIII. 
Scene from William Tell. — Knowles. 

Gesle*, Tell, and Albert, Verner, Sarnem, and Soldiers. 

Sarnem* Down, slave ! 
Behold the governor. Down ! down ! and beg 
For mercy ! 

Gesler. Does he hear 1 — Thy name ? 

Tell. My name 1 
It matters not to keep it from thee now : 
My name is Tell. 

Ges. Tell !— William Tell 1 

Tell. The same. 

Ges. What ! he so famed 'bove all his countrymen 
For guiding o'er the stormy lake the boat ! 
And such a master of his bow, 'tis said 
His arrows never miss ! — [Asz'^e.] Indeed ! — I'll take 
Exquisite vengeance ! — Mark ! I'll spare thy life, 
Thy boy's too. — Both of you are free, — on one 
Condition. 

Tell. Name it. 

Ges. I would see you make 
A trial of your skill with that same bow 
You shoot so well with. 

Tell. Name the trial you 
Would have me make. [ Tell looks on Albert.} 

Ges. You look upon your boy, 
As though instinctively you guessed it. 

Tell. Look 
Upon my boy ! — What mean you 1 Look upon 
My boy, as though I guessed it ! Guessed the trial 
You'd have me make ! Guessed it 

* The word bankrupt signifies, literally, broken bench ; and the dialogue 
shows the original application of the word. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 191 

Instinctively ! You do not mean — No — no — 
You would not have me make a trial of 
My skill upon my child ! Impossible ! 
I do not guess your meaning. 

Ges. 1 would see 
Thee hit an apple at the distance of 
A hundred paces. 

Tell. Is my boy to hold it 1 

Ges. No. 

Tell. No ! — I'll send the arrow through the core ! 

Ges. It is to rest upon his head. 

Tell. Great Heaven, 
Thou hear'st him ! 

Ges. Thou dost hear the choice I give — 
Such trial of the skill thou'rt master of, 
Or death to both of you, not otherwise 
To be escaped. 

Tell. O, monster ! 

Ges. Wilt thou do it % 

Alb. He will ! he will ! 

Tell. Ferocious monster ! Make 
A father murder his own child ! 

Ges. Take off 
His chains, if he consents. 

Tell. With his own hand ! 

Ges. Does he consent % 

Alb. He does. 
[Gesler signs to Ms Officers, who proceed to take off Tells 

chains, Tell all the while unconscious of what they do.] 

Tell. With his own hand ! 
Murder his child with his own hand ! 
The hand I've led him, when an infant, by ! 
[His chains Jail off.] What's that you 
Have done to me 1 [To the Guard.] 
Villains ! put on my chains again. 

My hands 
Are free from blood, and have no gust for it, 
That they should drink my child's ! — 

I'll not 
Murder my boy for Gesler. 

Alb. Father— father ! 
You will not hit me, father ! 

Ges. Dost thou consent] 



19£ JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Tell. Give me my bow and quiver. 

Ges. For what? 

Tell. To shoot my boy ! 

Alb. No, father, no ! 
To save me ! — You'll be sure to hit the apple. 
Will you not save me, father 1 

Tell. Lead me forth, — 
I'll make the trial ! 

Alb. Thank you! 

Tell. Thank me !— Do 
You know for what 1 — I will not make the trial, 
To take him to his mother in my arms, 
And lay him down a corse before her ! 

Ges. Then 
He dies this moment ; and you certainly 
Do murder him, whose life you have a chance 
To save, and will not use it. 

Tell. Well— I'll do it ! 
I'll make the trial. 

Alb. Father! 

Tell. Speak not to me : 
Let me not hear thy voice — thou must be dumb ; 
And so should all things be : — earth should be dumb ! 
And heaven, — unless its thunders muttered at 
The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it ! Give me 
My bow and quiver ! 

Ges. That is your ground. — Now shall they measure 
A hundred paces. Take the distance. [thence 

Tell. Is 
The line a true one ? 

Ges. True or not, what is't 
To thee? 

Tell. What is't to me 1 A little thing, 
A very little thing : — a yard or two, 
Is nothing here or there — were it a wolf 
I shot at ! 

Ges. Be thankful, slave, 
Our grace accords thee life on any terms. 

Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler ! — Villain, stop ! 
You measure to the sun. [ To the Attendant.} 

Ges. And what of that ? 
What matter, whether to or from the sun ] 

Tell. I'd have it at my back. — The sun should shine 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 193 

Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots. 
T cannot see to shoot, against the sun : — 
I will not shoot against the sun ! 

Ges. Give him his way ! — Thou hast cause to bless my 

Tell. I shall remember it. I'd like to see [mercy. 

' The apple I'm about to shoot at. 

Ges. Show me 
The basket. — There ! [Gives a very small apple.'] 

Tell. You've picked the smallest one. 

Ges. I know I have. 

Tell. Oh ! do you 1 — But you see 
The color oft is dark — I'd have it light, 
To see it better. 

Ges. Take it as it is : 
Thy skill will be the greater if thou hitt'st it. 

Tell. True — true, — I didn't think of that : — I wonder 
I did not think of that. — Give me some chance 
To save my boy ! [ Throws away the apple.] I will not 
If I can help it, — for the honor of [murder him, 

The form thou wear'st, if all the heart is gone. 

Ges. Well ! choose thyself. 

[Hands a basket of apples. — Tell takes one.] 

Tell. Have I a friend among 
The lookers on 1 

Verner. Here, Tell ! 

Tell. I thank thee, Verner ! — Take the boy 
And set him, Verner, with his back to me. — 
Set him upon his knees ; — and place this apple 
Upon his head, so that the stem may front me — 
Thus, Verner; charge him to keep steady,- — tell him 
I'll hit the apple !— Verner, do all this 
More briefly than I tell it thee. 

Ver. Come, Albert ! [Leading him out.] 

Alb. May I not speak with him before I go ] 

Ver. No — 

Alb. I would only kiss his hand — 

Ver. You must not. 

Alb. I must ! — I cannot go from him without ! 

Ver. It is his will you should. 

Alb. His will, is it ] 
1 am content, then, — come. 

Tell. My boy ! [Holding out his arms to 7iim.] 

Alb. My father ! [Running into Tell's arms.] 
I 



194 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Tell. If thou canst bear it, should not I ] — Go now, 
My son — and keep in mind that I can shoot. — 
Go, boy — be thou but steady, I will hit 
The apple. Go : — God bless thee ! — Go. 

My bow ! [Sarnem gives the bow.] 
Thou wilt not fail thy master, wilt thou 1 — Thou 
Hast never failed him yet, old servant. — No, 
I'm sure of thee — I know thy honesty ; 
Thou'rt stanch — stanch : — I'd deserve to find thee treach- 
Could I suspect thee so. Come, I will stake [erous, 

My all upon thee! Let me see my quiver. [Retires.] 

Ges. Give him a single arrow. [ To an Attendant^ 

Tell. Is't so you pick an arrow, friend 1 
The point, you see, is bent, the feather jagged ; 
That's all the use 'tis fit for. [Breaks it.] 

Ges. Let him have 
Another. [ Tell examines it.] 

Tell. Why, 'tis better than the first, 
But yet not good enough for such an aim 
As I'm to take. 'Tis heavy in the shaft: 
I'll not shoot with it ! [ Throws it away.] Let me see my 
Bring it! 'tis not one arrow in a dozen [quiver. 

I'd take to shoot with at a dove, much less 
A dove like that ! — What is't you fear % I'm but 
A naked man, a wretched naked man ! 
Your helpless thrall, alone in the midst of you, 
With every one of you a weapon in 
His hand. What can I do in such a strait 
With all the arrows in that quiver 1 — Come, 
Will you give it me or not 1 

Ges. It matters not. 
Show him the quiver. 
[Tell kneels and picks out an arrow, then secretes one in 

his vest.] 

Tell. See if the boy is ready. 

Ver. He is. 

Tell. I'm ready too! — Keep silence, for [To the people.] 
Heaven's sake ! and do not stir, and let me have 
Your prayers — your prayers : — and be my witnesses, 
That if his life's in peril from my hand, 
'Tis only for the chance of saving it. 
Now friends, for mercy's sake, keep motionless 
And silent ! 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 195 

[ Tell shoots ; and a shout of exultation hursts from the 

crowd.] 

Ver. [Rushing in with Albert.'] Thy boy is safe; no 
hair of him is touched ! 

Alb. Father, I'm safe ! — your Albert's safe ! Dearfather, 
Speak to me ! speak to me ! 

Ver. He cannot, boy ! 
Open his vest, 
And give him air. 
[ Albert opens his father's vest, and an arrow drops ; 

Tell starts, fixes his eyes on Albert, and clasps him to 

his breast.] 

Tell. My boy ! my boy ! 

Ges. For what 
Hid you that arrow in your breast 7 ? Speak, slave ! 

Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy ! 
Liberty 

Would at thy downfall shout from every peak ! 
My country then were free ! 



Exercise XCIX. 
LochieVs Warning. — Campbell. 

Wizard. Lochiel ! Lochielt beware of the day 
When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array ! 
For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, 
And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight : 
They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown ; 
Woe, woe, to the riders that trample them down ! 
Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, 
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. 
But hark ! through the fast-flashing lightning of war, 
What steed to the desert flies frantic and far 1 
'Tis thine, O Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, 
Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate. 
A steed comes at morning : no rider is there ; 
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. 
Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity led ! 
Oh weep ! but thy tears cannot number the dead : 
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, — 
Culloden ! that reeks with the blood of the brave. 



196 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

LocJiicl. Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling 
Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear, [seer! 

Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight, 
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. 

Wizard. Ha ! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? 
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn ! 
Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth, 
From his home, in the dark-rolling clouds of the north 1 
Lo ! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode 
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; 
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high, 
Ah ! home let him speed, — for the spoiler is nigh. 
Why flames the far summit 1 Why shoot to the blast 
Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast 1 
'Tis the fire shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven 
From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of heaven. 
O, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might, 
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, 
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn : 
Return to thy dwelling ; all lonely, return ! 
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, 
And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood. 

Lochiel. False wizard, avaunt ! I have marshalled my 
Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one; [clan, 
They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, 
And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. 
Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock ! 
Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock ! 
But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause, 
When Albin her claymore indignantly draws ; 
When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, 
Clanranald the dauntless, and Moray the proud, 
All plaided and plumed in their tartan array — 

Wizard. Lochiel, Lochiel ! beware of the day ! 
For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal ; 
But man cannot cover what God would reveal : 
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, 
And coming events cast their shadows before. 
I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring 
With the blood-hounds that bark for thy fugitive king ! 
Lo ! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath, 
Behold, where he flies on his desolate path ! — 
Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight r 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 197 

Rise ! rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight ! 

'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors : 

Culloden is lost, and my country deplores ! 

But where is the iron-bound prisoner 1 — Where 1 — 

For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. 

Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn, 

Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn % 

Ah ! no : — for a darker departure is near : — 

The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier ; 

His death-bell is tolling ! O mercy, dispel 

Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! — 

Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs, 

And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims ! 

Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, 

Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat, 

With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale — 

Lochiel. Down, soothless insulter ! I trust not the tale : 
For never shall Albin a destiny meet, 
So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat. 
Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, 
Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, 
Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, 
While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, 
Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, 
With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe ! 
And leaving in battle no blot on his name, 
Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame. 



Exercise C. 
Cato and Decius. — Addison. 

Dec. Caesar sends health to Cato — 

Cato. Could he send it 
To Cato's slaughtered friends, it would be welcome. 
Are not your orders to address the senate "? 

Dec. My business is with Cato : Caesar sees 
The straits to which you're driven ; and, as he knows 
Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. 

Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. 
Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. 
Tell your dictator this; and tell him, Cato 
Disdains a life which he has power to offer. 



198 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Caesar ; 
Her generals and her consuls are no more, 
Who checked his conquests, and denied his triumphs : 
"Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend % 

Cato. Those very reasons thou hast urged, forbid it. 

Dec. Cato, I've orders to expostulate 
And reason with you, as from friend to friend : 
Think on the storm that gathers o'er your head, 
And threatens every hour to burst upon it. 
Still may you stand high in your country's honors ; 
Do but comply, and make your peace with Caesar, — 
Rome will rejoice, and cast its eyes on Cato, 
As on the second of mankind. 

Cato. No more : 
I must not think of life on such conditions. 

Dec. Caesar is well acquainted with your virtues, 
And therefore sets this value on your life. 
Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship, 
And name your terms. 

Cato. Bid him disband his legions, 
Restore the commonwealth to liberty, 
Submit his actions to the public censure, 
And stand the judgment of a Roman senate. — 
Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend. 

Dec. Cato, the world talks loudly of your wisdom — 

Cato. Nay, more — though Cato's voice was ne'er em- 
To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes, [ployed 

Myself will mount the rostrum in his favor, 
And strive to gain his pardon from the people. 

Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror. 

Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman. 

Dec. What is a Roman that is Caesar's foe 1 

Cato. Greater than Caesar : he's a friend to virtue. 

Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica, 
And at the head of your own little senate ; 
You don't now thunder in the capitol, 
With all the mouths of Rome to second you. 

Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us hither ; 
'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little, 
And thinned its ranks. Alas ! thy dazzled eye 
Beholds this man in a false, glaring light, 
Which conquest and success have thrown upon him : 
Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 199 

With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes 
That strike my soul with horror but to name them. 
I know thou look'st on me, as on a wretch 
Beset with ills, and covered with misfortunes ; 
But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds 
Should never buy me to be like that Caesar. 

Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Cassar 
For all his generous cares and proffered friendship 1 

Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain : 
Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato. 
Would Cassar show the greatness of his soul, 
Bid him employ his care for these my friends, 
And make good use of his ill-gotten power, 
By sheltering men much better than himself. 

Dec. Your high unconquered heart makes you forget 
You are a man : you rush on your destruction. 
But I have done. When I relate hereafter 
The tale of this unhappy embassy, 
All Rome will be in tears. 



Exercise CI. 
The Greek Emigrant. — J. G-. Percival. 

Now launch the boat upon the wave, — 
The wind is blowing off the shore ; — 

I will not live, a cowering slave, 
In these polluted islands more. — 

Beyond the wild, dark-heaving sea, 

There is a better home for me. 

The wind is blowing off the shore, 
And out to sea the streamers fly ; — 

My music is the dashing roar, 
My canopy the stainless sky, — 

It bends above, so fair a blue 

That heaven seems opening to my view. 

I will not live, a cowering slave, 

Though all the charms of life may shine 

Around me, and the land, the wave, 
And sky be drawn in tints divine. — 

Give lowering skies and rocks to me 

If there my spirit can be free. 



200 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Sweeter than spicy gales, that blow 

From orange groves with wooing breath, 

The winds may from these islands flow ; — 
But, 'tis an atmosphere of death, — 

The lotus, which transformed the brave 

And haughty to a willing slave. 

Softer than Minder's winding stream, 
The wave may ripple on this coast, 

And brighter than the morning beam, 
In golden swell be round it tossed — 

Give me a rude and stormy shore, 

So power can never threat me more. 

Brighter than all the tales, they tell 
Of Eastern pomp and pageantry, 

Our sunset skies in glory swell, 

Hung round with glowing tapestry : — 

The horrors of a winter storm 

Swell brighter o'er a Freeman's form. 

The spring may here with autumn twine, 
And both combined may rule the year, 

And fresh-blown flowers and racy wine 
In frosted clusters still be near : — 

Dearer the wild and snowy hills 

Where hale and ruddy Freedom smiles. 

Beyond the wild, dark-heaving sea, 
And ocean's stormy vastness o'er, 

There is a better home for me, 
A welcomer and dearer shore : 

There hands, and hearts, and souls, are twined, 

And free the Man, and free the mind. 



Exercise CII. 
War Song of the Greeks, 1822. — Campbell. 

Again to the battle, Achaians ! 

Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance ; 
Our land, — the first garden of Liberty's tree — 
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free ; 

For the cross of our faith is replanted, 

The pale dying crescent is daunted, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 201 

And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's slaves 
May be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves. 
Their spirits are hovering o'er us, 
And the sword shall to glory restore us. 

Ah ! what though no succor advances, 
Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances 

Are stretched in our aid 1 — Be the combat our own ! 

And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone : 
For we've sworn, by our country's assaulters, 
By the virgins they've dragged from our altars, 

By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, 

By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins, 
That living, we will be victorious, 
Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious. 

A breath of submission we breathe not : 
The sword that we've drawn we will sheathe not ; 
Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid, 
And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. 

Earth may hide — waves ingulf — fire consume us, 
But they shall not to slavery doom us : 
If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves : — 
But we've smote them already with fire on the waves, 
And new triumphs on land are before us. 
To the charge ! — Heaven's banner is o'er us. 

This day — shall ye blush for its story? 

Or brighten your lives with its glory ] — 
Our women — oh ! say, shall they shriek in despair, 
Or embrace us from conquest, with wreaths in their hair ! 

Accursed may his memory blacken, 

If a coward there be that would slacken, 
Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth 
Being sprung from, and named for, the godlike of earth. 

Strike home ! — and the world shall revere us 

As heroes descended from heroes. 



Exercise CIII. 

Hotspur' s Answer to King Henry. — Shakspeare. 

My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 

But, I remember, when the fight was done, 

When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, 



202 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 

Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dressed, 

Fresh as a bridegroom : and his chin, new reaped, 

Showed like a stubble land at harvest home : 

He was perfumed like a milliner ; 

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 

A pouncet-box, which, ever and anon, 

He gave his nose, and took't away again ; 

And still he smiled, and talked ; 

And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 

He called them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 

To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse, 

Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 

With many holiday and lady terms, 

He questioned me ; among the rest demanded 

My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. 

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 

To be so pestered with a popinjay, 

Out of my grief and my impatience, 

Answered, neglectingly, I know not what ; 

He should, or should not ; for he made me mad, 

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 

And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, 

Of guns, and drums, and wounds : (Heaven save the mark !) 

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 

Was parmacity, for an inward bruise ; 

And that it was great pity, so it was, 

That villanous saltpetre should be digged 

Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 

Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed 

So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, 

He would himself have been a soldier. 

This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, 

I answered indirectly, as I said ; 

And, I beseech you, let not his report 

Come current for an accusation, 

Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 



Exercise CIV. 
Rienzi to the Romans. — Moore 
Romans ! look round you — on this sacred place 

There once stood shrines, and god&, and godlike men — 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 203 

What see you now 1 what solitary trace 

Is left of all that made Rome's glory then 1 
The shrines are sunk, the sacred mount bereft 

Even of its name — and nothing now remains 
But the deep memory of that glory, left 

To whet our pangs and aggravate our chains ! 
But shall this be % — our sun and sky the same, 

Treading the very soil our fathers trod, — 
What withering curse hath fallen on soul and frame, 

What visitation hath there come from God, 
To blast our strength and rot us into slaves, 
Here, on our great forefathers' glorious graves 1 
It cannot be — rise up, ye mighty dead, 

If we, the living, are too weak to crush 
These tyrant priests, that o'er your empire tread, 

Till all but Romans at Rome's tameness blush ! 

Happy Palmyra ! in thy desert domes, 

Where only date-trees sigh, and serpents hiss; 
And thou, whose pillars are but silent homes 

For the stork's brood, superb Persepolis ! 
Thrice happy both, that your extinguished race 
Have left no embers — no half-living trace — 
No slaves, to crawl around the once proud spot, 
Till past renown in present shame's forgot ; 
While Rome, the queen of all, whose very wrecks, 

If lone and lifeless through a desert hurled, 
Would wear more true magnificence than decks 

The assembled thrones of all the existing world — 
Rome, Rome alone, is haunted, stained, and cursed, 

Through every spot her princely Tiber laves, 
By living human things — the deadliest, worst, 

That earth engenders — tyrants and their slaves ! 
And we — oh ! shame ! — we, who have pondered o'er 

The patriot's lesson, and the poet's lay ; 
Have mounted up the streams of ancient lore, 
- Tracking our country's glories all the way — 
Even we have tamely, basely kissed the ground, 

Before that Papal Power, that Ghost of Her, 
The World's Imperial Mistress — sitting, crowned 

And ghastly, on her mouldering sepulchre ! 
But this is past — too long have lordly priests 

And priestly lords led us, with all our pride 



204 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

"Withering about us — like devoted beasts, 

Dragged to the shrine, with faded garlands tiec 
'Tis o'er — the dawn of our deliverance breaks ! 
Up from his sleep of centuries awakes 
The Genius of the Old Republic, free 
As first he stood, in chainless majesty, 
And sends his voice through ages yet to come, 
Proclaiming Rome, Rome, Rome, Eternal Rome / 



Exercise CV. 
Scene from the Tragedy of Brutus. — Payne 

Scene — The Camp before Ardea. 

[Enter Claudius and Aruns, laughing.] 
Aruns. There is no doctor for the spleen like Lucius ! 
What precious scenes of folly did he act 
When, lately, through the unknown seas of Greece 
He went with us to Delphi ! — but, behold ! 
Where full of business his wise worship comes ! 

[Enter Lucius Junius.] 

Claud. Whither so fast, good Junius, tell us whither 1 

Luc. To Rome, to Rome — the queen demands my pres- 
The state needs aid, and I am called to court. [ence. 

Am I a fool ] If so, you cannot say 
I'm the first fool graced by a monarch's favor. 

Aruns. Why, Junius, travel has improved thy wit, 
Thou speakest shrewdly. 

Luc. Do I so, my lord ] 
I'm always glad when you and I agree ; 
You have just such a wit as I should choose. 
Would I could purchase such ! — though it might split 
My head, as confined air does — water bubbles ! 

Claud. How say you 1 Purchase ! Pr'ythee what 
wouldst give 1 

Luc. What would I give ? — ten acres of my land. 

Aruns. Thy land ! Where lies it 1 

Luc. Ask the king, my cousin ; 
He knows full well. I thank him, he's my steward, 
And takes the trouble off my hands. 

Claud. Who told thee so } 

Luc. The king himself. Now twenty years are past, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 205 

Or more, — since he sent for me from my farm. 
" Kinsman," said he, with a kind, gracious smile, 
" For the black crime of treason, which was charged 
Against thy father and thy elder brother, 
Their lives have paid ; for thee, as I love mercy, 
Live and be happy; simple is thy mind" — 

Aruns. True, kinsman, true — i'faith 'tis wondrous simple. 
Luc. " And that simplicity will be a pledge 
That thou wilt never plot against thy sovereign" — 
Claud. Indeed, for that I'll be thy bondsman, Junius. 
Luc. " Live in my house, companion of my children. 
As for thy land, to ease thee of all care, 
I'll take it for thy use ; all that I ask 
Of thee, is gratitude." 

Aruns. And art thou not 
Grateful for goodness so unmerited 1 

Luc. Am I not 1 * * * * Never 
Will I forget it ! 'Tis my constant prayer 
To Heaven, that I may one day have the power 
To pay the debt I owe him. But stay — stay — 
I brought a message to you from the king. 

Aruns. Thank the gods, then, for thy good memory, fool ! 
Luc. The king your father sends for you to council, 
Where he debates how best to conquer Ardea. 
Shall I before, and tell him ye are coming % 

Claud. Ay, or behind, or with us, or stay here — 
As thy wit prompts, — as suits thy lofty pleasure. 

[Exit Aruns and Claudius, laug7iing.] 
Luc. (alone) Yet, 'tis not that which ruffles me — the gibes 
And scornful mockeries of ill-governed youth — 
Or flouts of dastard sycophants and jesters, 
Reptiles, who lay their bodies on the dust 
Before the frown of majesty ! — All this 
I but expect, nor grudge to bear ! — the face 
I carry, courts it ! — son of Marcus Junius ! 
When will the tedious gods permit thy soul 
To walk abroad in her own majesty, 
And throw this vizor of thy madness from thee 1 
To avenge my father's and my brother's murder ! 
(And sweet, I must confess, would be the draught !) 
Had this been all — a thousand opportunities 
I've had to strike the blow, — and my own life 
I had not valued as a rush. But still — 



206 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

There's something nobler to be done — my soul ! 

Enjoy the strong conception. Oh ! 'tis glorious 

To free a groaning country — 

To see revenge 

Spring like a lion from its den, and tear 

These hunters of mankind ! Grant but the time, 

Grant but the moment, gods ! - If I am wanting, 

May I drag out this idiot-feigned life 

To late old age; and may posterity 

Ne'er hear of Junius, but as Tarquin's fool ! 



Exercise CVI. 

Lament of a Swiss Minstrel over the Ruins of Goldau.- 
Neal. 

Switzerland ! my country ! 'tis to thee 

1 strike my harp in agony : — 
My country ! nurse of Liberty, 
Home of the gallant, great, and free, 
My sullen harp I strike to thee. 

Oh ! I have lost you all ! 
Parents, and home, and friends : 

Ye sleep beneath a mountain pall ; 
A mountain's plumage o'er you bends. 

The cliff- yew of funereal gloom, 

Is now the only mourning plume 

That nods above a people's tomb. 
Of the echoes that swim o'er thy bright blue lake, 
And, deep in its caverns, their merry bells shake, 

And repeat the young huntsman's cry ; — 
That clatter and laugh when the goatherds take 
Their browzing flocks, at the morning's break, 
Far over the hills, — not one is awake 

In the swell of thy peaceable sky. 
They sit on that wave with a motionless wing, 
And their cymbals are mute ; and the desert birds sing 
Their unanswered notes to the wave and the sky, 
As they stoop their broad wing, and go sluggishly by : 
For deep, in that blue bosomed water, is laid 
As innocent, true, and as lovely a maid 
As ever in cheerfulness carolled her song, 
In the blithe mountain air, as she bounded along. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 207 

The heavens are all blue, and the billow's bright verge 
Is frothily laved by a whispering surge, 
That heaves, incessant, a tranquil dirge, 
To lull the pale forms that sleep below : — 
Forms that rock as the waters flow. 

That bright lake is still as a liquid sky : 
And when o'er its bosom the swift clouds fly, 
They pass like thoughts o'er a clear, blue eye. 
The fringe of thin foam that their sepulchre binds 
Is as light as the clouds that are borne by the winds. 
Soft over its bosom the dim vapors hover 
In morning's first light : and the snowy winged plover, 
That skims o'er the deep 
Where my loved ones sleep, 
No note of joy on this solitude flings, 
Nor shakes the mist from his drooping wings. 
# # # # 

No chariots of fire on the clouds careered ; 
No warrior's arm on the hills was reared ; 
No death-angel's trump o'er the ocean was blown ; 
No mantle of wrath over heaven was thrown ; 
No armies of light with their banners of flame, 
On neighing steeds, through the sunset came, 

Or leaping from space appeared : 
No earthquake reeled : no Thunderer stormed : 
No fetterless dead o'er the bright sky swarmed : 

No voices in heaven were heard ; 
But, the hour when the sun in his pride went down, 

While his parting hung rich o'er the world, 
While abroad o'er the sky his flush mantle was blown, 
And his streamers of gold were unfurled ; 
An everlasting hill was torn 
From its primeval base, and borne, 
In gold and crimson vapors drest, 
To where a people are at rest. 
Slowly it came in its mountain wrath ; 
And the forest vanished before its path ; 
And the rude cliffs bowed ; and the waters fled ; 
And the living were buried, while over their head 
They heard the full march of their foe as he sped ; — 
And the valley of life was the tomb of the dead, 
The mountain-sepulchre of all I loved ! 



208 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

The village sank ; and the giant trees 
Leaned back from the encountering breeze, 
As this tremendous pageant moved. 
The mountain forsook its perpetual throne, 
And came down in his pomp : and his path is shown 
In barrenness and ruin : — there 
His ancient mysteries lie bare ; 
His rocks in nakedness arise ; 
His desolations mock the skies. 
Sweet vale, G-oldau, farewell ! 
An Alpine monument may dwell 
Upon thy bosom, O my home ! 
The mountain — thy pall and thy prison — may keep thee ; 
I shall see thee no more ; but till death I will weep thee; 
Of thy blue dwelling dream wherever I roam, 
And wish myself wrapped in its peaceful foam. 



Exercise CVII. 

Valedictory Address. — Putnam. 

"We thank you, friends, who have come hither on this 
occasion, to encourage and cheer us with your presence. 
We thank you, who have gone so far and learned so much, 
on your journey of life, that you so kindly look back and 
smile upon us just setting out on our pilgrimage. We 
thank you who have climbed so high up the Hill of Sci- 
ence, that you condescend to pause a moment in your 
course, and bestow a cheering, animating glance on us, 
who, almost invisible in the distance, are toiling over the 
roughness of the first ascent. May you go on your way 
in peace, your path, like the sun, waxing brighter and 
brighter till the perfect day ; and may the light of your 
example long linger in blessings on those of us who 
shall survive to take your places in the broad and busy 
world ! 

We thank you, respected instructors, for your paternal 
care, your faithful counsels, and affectionate instructions. 
You have opened before us those ways of wisdom which 
are full of pleasantness and peace. You have warned us 
of danger, when dangers beset our path ; you have re- 
moved obstacles, when obstacles impeded our progress ; 
you have corrected us when in error, and cheered us when 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 209 

discouraged. You have told us of the bright rewards of 
knowledge and virtue, and of the fearful recompense of 
ignorance and vice. In the name of my companions, I 
thank you — warmly, sincerely thank you for it all. Our 
lips cannot express the gratitude that glows within our 
hearts; but we will endeavor, with the blessing of heaven, 
to testify it in our future lives, by dedicating all that we 
are, and all that we may attain, to the promotion of virtue 
and the good of mankind. 

And now, beloved companions, I turn to you. Long 
and happy has been our connection as members of this 
school ; — but with this day it must close forever. No longer 
shall we sit in these seats to listen to the voice that woos 
us to be wise ; no more shall we sport together on the 
noisy green, or wander in the silent grove. Other scenes, 
other society, other pursuits await us. We must part; — 
but parting shall only draw closer the ties that bind us. 
The setting sun and the evening star, which have so often 
witnessed our social intimacies and joys, shall still remind 
us of the scenes that are past. While we live on the 
earth, may we cherish a grateful remembrance of each 
other ; and, oh ! in Heaven, may our friendship be puri- 
fied and perpetuated ! — And now to old and young, to 
patrons and friends, to instructors and each other, we 
tender our reluctant and affectionate farewell. 



Exercise CVIII. 

Debate on the Character of Julius Ccesar. — Knowles. 
1st Speaker, ( Chairman. ) 

Gentlemen, — You have assembled to discuss the pro- 
priety of calling Caesar a great man. I promise myself 
much satisfaction from your debate. I promise myself 
the pleasure of hearing many ingenious arguments on each 
side of the question. I promise myself the gratification 
of witnessing a contest, maintained with animation, good 
humor, and courtesy. 

You are assembled, gentlemen, to discuss the merits of 
a man, whose actions are connected with some of the most 
interesting events in Roman story. You have given the 
subject due consideration. — You come prepared for the 
contest ; and I shall not presume to offer any opinion, re- 



210 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

specting the ground which either side ought to take. My 
remarks shall be confined to the study of oratory — and, 
allow me to say, I consider oratory to be the second end 
of our academic labors, of which the first end is, to render 
us enlightened, useful, and virtuous. 

The principal means of communicating our ideas are 
two — speech and writing. The former is the parent of 
the latter ; it is the more important, and its highest efforts 
are called — oratory. 

If we consider the very early period at which we begin 
to exercise the faculty of speech, and the frequency with 
which we exercise it, it must be a subject of surprise that 
so few excel in oratory. In any enlightened community, 
you will find numbers who are highly skilled in some par- 
ticular art or science, to the study of which they did not 
apply themselves, till they had almost arrived at the stage 
of manhood. Yet, with regard to the powers of speech, 
— those powers which the very second year of our exist- 
ence generally calls into action, the exercise of which 
goes on at our sports, our studies, our walks, our very 
meals ; and which is never long suspended, except at the 
hour of refreshing sleep, — with regard to those powers, 
how few surpass their fellow-creatures of common infor- 
mation and moderate attainments ! how very few deserve 
distinction ! — how rarely does one attain to eminence ! 

The causes are various ; but we must not attempt, here, 
to investigate them. By doing so, we might alarm many 
a formidable adversary ; we might excite a suspicion that 
we wished to undermine the foundations of modern litera- 
ture ; although our only aim should be to render them 
sound and durable, and to despoil the edifice of a few 
monastic features, that mar the harmony, and take from 
the general effect of the structure. 

I shall simply state, that one cause of our not generally 
excelling in oratory, is, our neglecting to cultivate the art 
of speaking — of speaking our own language. We acquire 
the power of expressing our ideas, almost insensibly ; we 
consider it as a thing that is natural to us ; we do not re- 
gard it as an art : — it is an art, — a difficult art, — an in- 
tricate art ; — and our ignorance of that circumstance, or 
our omitting to give it due consideration, is the cause of 
our deficiency. 

In the infant, just beginning to articulate, you will ob- 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 211 

serve every inflection that is recognized in the most accu- 
rate treatise on elocution ; — you will observe, farther, an 
exact proportion in its several cadences, and a speaking 
expression in its tones. I say, you will observe these 
things in almost every infant. Select a dozen men, — men 
of education, — erudition ; — ask them to read a piece of an- 
imated composition, — you will be fortunate if you find one 
in the dozen, that can raise, or depress his voice, — inflect 
or modulate it, as the variety of the subject requires. 
What has become of the inflections, the cadences, and the 
modulation of the infant ] They have not been exercised ; 
they have been neglected ; — they have never been put 
into the hands of the artist, that he might apply them to 
their proper use : — they have been laid aside, spoiled, 
abused ; and, ten to one, they will never be good for any 
thing ! 

Oratory is highly useful to him that excels in it. In 
common conversation, observe the advantage which the 
fluent speaker enjoys over the man that hesitates, and 
stumbles in discourse. "With half his information, he has 
twice his importance ; he commands the respect of his 
auditors; he instructs and gratifies them. In the general 
transactions of business, the same superiority attends him. 
He communicates his views with clearness, precision, and 
effect; he carries his point by his mere readiness; he con- 
cludes his treaty before another man would have well set 
about it. Does he plead the cause of friendship 1 — how 
happy is his friend ! Of charity 1 — how fortunate is the 
distressed ! Should he enter the Legislature of his country, 
he approves himself the people's bulwark ! 

That you will persevere in the pursuit of so useful a 
study as that of oratory, I confidently hope. 

Gentlemen, the question for debate is — 

WAS C.ESAR A GREAT MAN? 

2d Speaker. — Sir* I am unpractised in the orator's art ; 
nor can I boast that native energy of talent, which asks not 
the tempering of experience, but, by its single force, effects 
what seems the proper achievement of labor and of years. 
Let me, then, hope that you will excel in favor, as much 
as I shall fall short in merit. 

" Was Caesar a great man 1" — What revolution has 
taken place in the first appointed government of the uni- 



212 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

verse — what new and opposite principle has begun to 
direct the operations of nature — what refutation of their 
long-established precepts, has deprived reason of her 
sceptre, and virtue of her throne, that a character which 
forms the noblest theme that ever merit gave to fame, 
should now become a question for debate 1 

No painter of human excellence, if he would draw the 
features of that hero's character, needs study a favorable 
light, or striking attitude. In every posture, it has majes- 
ty ; and the lineaments of its beauty are prominent in 
every point of view. Do you ask me, " Had Caesar ge- 
nius V — He was an orator. " Had Caesar judgment ?" — 
He was a politician ! " Had Caesar valor ?" — He was a 
conqueror ! " Had Caesar feeling V — He was a friend ! 

It is a generally-received opinion, that uncommon cir- 
cumstances make uncommon men — Caesar was an un- 
common man, in common circumstances. The colossal 
mind commands your admiration, no less in the pirate's 
captive, than in the victor of Pharsalia. Who, but the first 
of his race, could have made vassals of his savage masters, 
mocked them into reverence of his superior nature, and 
threatened with security the power that held him at its 
mercy 1 Of all the striking incidents of Caesar's life, had 
history preserved for us but this single one, it would have 
been sufficient to make us fancy all the rest ; — at least we 
should have said, " Such a man was born to conquest, and 
to empire !" 

To expatiate on Caesar's powers of oratory, would only 
be to add one poor eulogium to the testimony of the first 
historians. Cicero, himself, grants him the palm of almost 
pre-eminent merit ; and seems at a loss for words to ex- 
press his admiration of him. His voice was musical, 
his delivery energetic, his language chaste and rich, ap- 
propriate and peculiar. And it is well presumed, that, 
had he studied the art of public speaking, with as much 
industry as he studied the art of war, he would have been 
the first of orators. Quintilian says, he would have been 
the only man capable of combating Cicero. But granting 
them to have been equal in ability, what equal contest 
could the timid Cicero, — whose nerves fail him, and whose 
tongue falters, when the forum glitters with arms, — what 
equal contest could he have held with the man whose 
vigor chastised the Belgae, and annihilated the Nervii, that 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 213 

maintained their ground till they were hewn to pieces on 
the spot ! 

His abilities as a master of composition, were undoubt- 
edly of the first order. How admirable is the structure 
of his Commentaries ! what perspicuity and animation 
are there in the details ! You fancy yourself upon the 
field of action ! You follow the development of his 
plans, with the liveliest curiosity ! — You look on with un- 
wearied attention, as he fortifies his camp, or invests his 
enemy, or crosses the impetuous torrent ! — You behold 
his legions, as they move forward, from different points, 
to the line of battle — you hear the shout of the onset, and 
the crash of the encounter; and, breathless with suspense, 
mark every fluctuation of the awful tide of war ! 

As a politician, how consummate was his address ! — 
how grand his projections ! — how happy the execution of 
his measures ! He compels the vanquished Helvetii to 
rebuild their towns and villages ; making his enemies the 
guards, as it were, of his frontier. He captivates by his 
clemency, the Arverni, and the iEdui, winning to the sup- 
port of his arms the strength that had been employed to 
overpower them. He governs his province with such 
equity and wisdom, as add a milder, but a fairer lustre to 
his glory ; and, by their fame, prepare the Roman people 
for his happy yoke. Upon the very eve of his rupture 
with Pompey, he sends back, on demand, the borrowed 
legions ; covering with rewards the soldiers that may no 
longer serve him ; and whose weapons on the morrow, 
may be turned against his breast, — presenting here a no- 
ble example of his respect of right, and of that magna- 
nimity, which maintains that gratitude should not cease, 
though benefits are discontinued. When he reigns sole 
master of the Roman world, how temperate is his triumph ! 
— how scrupulous his respect for the very forms of the 
laws ! — He discountenances the profligacy of the patri- 
cians, and endeavors to preserve the virtue of the state, by 
laying wholesome restraints upon luxury. He encourages 
the arts and sciences, patronizes genius and talent, respects 
religion and justice, and puts in practice every means that 
can contribute to the welfare, the happiness, and the sta- 
bility of the empire. 

To you, sir, who are so fully versed in the page of his- 
tory, it must be unnecessary to recount the military ex- 



214 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

ploits of Caesar. Why should I compel your attention to 
follow him, for the hundredth time, through hostile myr- 
iads, yielding, at every encounter, to the force of his in- 
vincible arms 1 Full often, sir, have your calculations 
hesitated to credit the celerity of his marches ; your be- 
lief recoiled at the magnitude of his operations ; and your 
wonder re-perused the detail of his successive victories, 
following upon the shouts of one another. As a captain, 
he was the first of warriors ; nor were his valor and skill 
more admirable, than his abstinence and watchfulness ; 
his disregard of ease and his endurance of labor ; his 
moderation and his mercy. Perhaps, indeed, this last 
quality forms the most prominent feature in his character; 
and proves, by the consequences of its excess, that virtue 
itself requires restraint, and has its proper bounds, which 
it ought not to exceed ; — for Caesar's moderation was his 
ruin ! 

That Caesar had a heart susceptible of friendship, and 
alive to the finest touches of humanity, is unquestionable. 
Why does he attempt so often to avert the storm of civil 
war ? — Why does he pause so long upon the brink of the 
Rubicon? — Why does he weep when he beholds the head 
of his unfortunate rival ] — Why does he delight in par- 
doning his enemies, — even those very men that had de- 
serted him 1 

It seems as if he lived the lover of mankind, and fell — 
as the Bard expresses it — vanquished, not so much by the 
weapons, as by the ingratitude of his murderers. 

If, sir, a combination of the most splendid talents for 
war, with the most sacred love of peace, — of the most il- 
lustrious public virtue, with the most endearing private 
worth, — of the most unyielding courage, with the most 
accessible moderation, may constitute a great man, — that 
title must be Caesar's ! 

3d Speaker, — No change, sir, has taken place in the 
first appointed government of the universe : — the opera- 
tions of nature acknowledge, now, the same principle that 
they did in the beginning ; reason still holds her sceptre ; 
virtue still fills her throne ; and the epithet of great does 
not belong to Caesar ! 

I would lay it down, sir, as an unquestionable position, 
that the worth of talents is to be estimated only by the use 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 215 

we make of them. If we employ them in the cause of 
virtue, their value is great ; — if we employ them in the 
cause of vice, they are less than worthless, — they are per- 
nicious and vile. Now, sir, let us examine Caesar's tal- 
ents by this principle, and we shall find, that, neither as 
an orator, nor as a politician, — neither as a warrior, nor 
as a friend, — was Caesar a great man. 

If I were asked, " What was the first, the second, and 
the last principle of the virtuous mind %" I should reply, 
11 It was the love of country." Sir, it is the love of parent, 
brother, friend ! — the love of man ! — the love of honor, 
virtue, and religion ! — the love of every good, and virtuous 
deed ! — I say, sir, if I were asked, " What was the first, 
the second, and the last principle of the virtuous mind!" 
I should reply, " It was the love of country !" Without 
it, man is the basest of his kind ! — a selfish, cunning, nar- 
row speculator !— a trader in the dearest interests of his 
species ! — reckless of every tie of nature — sentiment — af- 
fection ! — a Marius — a Sylla — a Crassus — a Catiline — a 
Caesar ! What, sir, was Caesar's oratory 1 — How far did 
it prove him to be actuated by the love of country] It 
justified, for political interest, the invader of his domestic 
honor : — sheltered the incendiary ! — abetted treason ! — 
flattered the people into their own undoing ! — assailed the 
liberties of his country, and bawled into silence every 
virtuous patriot that struggled to uphold them ! He 
would have been a greater orator than Cicero ! — I ques- 
tion the assertion ; — I deny that it is correct ! — He would 
have been a greater orator than Cicero ! — Well ! — let it 
pass — he might have been a greater orator ; but he never 
could have been so great a man. Which way soever he 
had directed his talents, the same inordinate ambition 
would have led to the same results ; and, had he devoted 
himself to the study of oratory, his tongue had produced 
the same effects as his sword, and equally desolated the 
human kingdom. 

But Caesar is to be admired as a politician ! I do not 
pretend to define the worthy speaker's idea of a politician ; 
but I shall attempt, Mr. Chairman, to put you in posses- 
sion of mine. By a politician, I understand a man who 
studies the laws of prudence and of justice, as they are 
applicable to the wise and happy government of a people, 
and the reciprocal obligations of states. Now, sir, how 



216 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

far was Caesar to be admired as a politician ? He makes 
war upon the innocent Spaniards, that his military talents 
may not suffer from inaction. This was a ready way to 
preserve the peace of his province, and to secure its loy- 
alty and affection. That he may be recorded as the first 
Roman that had ever crossed the Rhine in a hostile man- 
ner, he invades the unoffending Germans, lays waste their 
territories with fire, and plunders and sacks the country 
of the Sicambri and the Suevi. Here was a noble policy ! 
— that planted in the minds of a brave and formidable 
people, the fatal seeds of that revenge and hatred, which 
finally assisted in accomplishing the destruction of the 
Roman Empire ! In short, sir, Caesar's views were not 
of that enlarged nature, which could entitle him to the 
name of a great politician ; for he studied, not the happi- 
ness and interest of a community, but merely his own 
advancement, which he accomplished — by violating the 
laws, and destroying the liberties, of his country. 

That Caesar was a great conqueror, I do not care to dis- 
pute. His admirers are welcome to all the advantages 
that result from such a position. I will not subtract one 
victim from the hosts that perished for his fame ; or 
abate, by a single groan, the sufferings of his vanquished 
enemies, from his first great battle in Gaul, to his last vic- 
tory under the walls of Munda, — but I will avow it to be 
my opinion, that the character of a great conqueror does 
not necessarily constitute that of a great man ; nor can 
the recital of Caesar's many victories produce any other 
impression upon my mind, than what proceeds from the 
contemplation of those convulsions of the earth, which, in 
a moment, inundate with ruin the plains of fertility and 
the abodes of peace ; or, at one shock, convert whole 
cities into the graves of their living population ! 

But Caesar's munificence, his clemency, his moderation, 
and his affectionate nature, constitute him a great man ! 
What was his munificence, his clemency, or his modera- 
tion 1 — The automaton of his ambition ! It knew no as- 
piration from the Deity. It was a thing from the hands 
of a mechanician ! — an ingenious mockery of nature ! Its 
action seemed spontaneous, — its look argued a soul ; — 
but all the virtue lay in the finger of the operator. He 
could possess no real munificence, moderation, or clem- 
ency, who ever expected his gifts to be doubled by re- 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 217 

turn, — who never abstained, but with a view to excess ; 
nor spared, but for the indulgence of rapacity. 

Of the same nature, sir, were his affections. He was, 
indeed, a man of exquisite artifice ; but the deformity of 
his character was too prominent ; — no dress could thor- 
oughly hide it : — nay, sir, the very attempt to conceal, 
served only to discover, the magnitude of the distortion. 
He atones to the violated and murdered laws, by doing 
homage to their manes; and expiates the massacre of 
thousands, by dropping a tear or two into an ocean of 
blood ! 

4th Speaker. — Sir, to form an accurate idea of Caesar's 
character, it is necessary that we should consider the na- 
ture of the times in which he lived ; for the conduct of 
public men cannot be duly estimated, without a knowl- 
edge of the circumstances under which they have acted. 
The happiness of a community resembles the health of 
the body. As it is not always the same regimen that can 
preserve, or the same medicine that can restore, the lat- 
ter ; so the former is not always to be maintained by the 
same measures, or recovered by the same corrections. 
There was a time, when kingly power had grown to so 
enormous an excess, as rendered its abolition necessary 
for the salvation of the Roman people. — Let us examine 
whether the times in which Caesar lived, did not call for, 
and justify, the measures which he adopted, — whether the 
liberty of the Republic had not degenerated into such a 
state of anarchy, as rendered it expedient that the power 
of the empire should be vested in one man, whose influ- 
ence and talents could command party, and control fac- 
tion. 

The erroneous ideas that we have formed concerning 
Roman liberty, have induced us to pass a severe judgment 
on the actions of many an illustrious man. The admirers 
of that liberty will not expect to be told that it was little 
better than a name. True liberty, sir, could never have 
been enjoyed by a people who were the slaves of con- 
tinual tumults and cabals ; whose magistrates were the 
mere echoes of a crowd ; and among whom virtue itself 
had no protection from popular caprice, or state intrigue. 
By the term liberty, I understand a freedom from all re- 
sponsibility, except what morality, virtue, and religion im- 

K 



218 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

pose. That is the only liberty which is consonant with 
the true interests of man, — the only liberty that renders 
his association with his fellow permanent and happy, — 
the only liberty that places him in a peaceful, honorable, 
and prosperous community, — the only liberty that makes 
him the son of a land that he would inhabit till his death, 
and the subject of a state that he would defend with his 
property and his blood ! All other liberty is but a coun- 
terfeit, — the stamp a cheat, and the metal base ; — turbu- 
lence—insolence — licentiousness — party ferment — self- 
ish domination — anarchy, — such anarchy as needed more 
than mortal talents to restrain it ; and found them in a 
Caesar. 

I hold it to be an unquestionable position, that they 
who duly appreciate the blessings of liberty, revolt as 
much from the idea of exercising, as from that of endur- 
ing, oppression. How far this was the case with the 
Romans, you may inquire of those nations that surrounded 
them. Ask them, "What insolent guard paraded before 
their gates, and invested their strong-holds V They will 
answer, "A Roman legionary." Demand of them, " What 
greedy extortioner fattened by their poverty, and clothed 
himself by their nakedness V They will inform you, "A 
Roman quaestor." Inquire of them, "What imperious 
stranger issued to them his mandates of imprisonment or 
confiscation, of banishment or death]" They will reply 
to you, "A Roman consul." Question them, "What 
haughty conqueror led through his city their nobles and 
kings in chains ; and exhibited their countrymen, by thou- 
sands, in gladiators' shows for the amusement of his fel- 
low-citizens ?" They will tell you, "A Roman general." 
Require of them, " What tyrants imposed the heaviest 
yoke ] — enforced the most rigorous exactions ? — inflicted 
the most savage punishments, and showed the greatest 
gust for blood and torture"?" They will exclaim to you, 
" The Roman people !" 

Yes, sir, that people, so jealous of what they called 
their liberties, to gratify an insatiate thirst for conquest, 
invaded the liberties of every other nation ; and on what 
spot soever they set their tyrant foot, the fair and happy 
soil of the freeman withered at their stamp ! But the 
retributive justice of Heaven ordained that their rapacity- 
should be the means of its own punishment. As their 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 219 

territories extended, their armies required to be enlarged, 
and their campaigns became protracted. Hence the citi- 
zen lost in the camp that independence which he had 
been taught in the city ; and, being long accustomed to 
obey, implicitly, the voice of his general, from having 
been sent forth the hope, returned the terror of his coun- 
try. Hence, sir, their generals forgot, in foreign parts, 
the republican principles which they had imbibed in the 
forum ; and, long habituated to unlimited command, from 
being despots abroad, learned to be traitors at home. 
Hence, sir, Marius returned the salutations of his fellow- 
citizens with the daggers of assassins ; and, with cool 
ferocity, marched to the Capitol, amid the groans of his 
butchered countrymen, expiring on each side of him. — 
Hence Sylla's bloody proscription, that turned Rome into 
a shambles, — that tore its victims from the altars of the 
gods, — that made it death for a man to shelter a person 
proscribed, though it were his son, his brother, or his fa- 
ther ; and never suffered the executioners to take breath, 
till senators, knights, and citizens, to the number of nine 
thousand, had been inhumanly murdered ! 

Such, sir, were the events that characterized the times 
in which Caesar lived. To such atrocities were the Roman 
people subject, while the rivalry of their leading men was 
at liberty to create divisions in the state. Had you, sir, 
lived in those times, what would you have called the man, 
that would have stepped forward to secure your country 
against the repetition of those horrid scenes 1 Would you 
not have styled him a friend to his country, — a benefac- 
tor to the world, — a great man, — a demi-god 1 Was not 
Caesar such a character ] Observe what use he makes of 
power.— He does not employ it to gratify revenge, or to 
awe his countrymen : on the contrary, the whole of his 
conduct encourages confidence and freedom ; while he 
reforms the government, and enacts the wisest laws for 
the preservation of order, and for the happiness of the 
community. They who object to the character of Caesar, 
condemn it, principally upon the score of his having 
erected himself into the sole governor of the Republic. — 
But let it be remembered, that the happiness of a state 
does not depend so much upon the form of its govern- 
ment, as upon the manner in which that government is 
administered. A country might be as prospeious and 



220 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

free under what was anciently called a tyranny, as where 
the chief power was vested in the people. 

In short, sir, when Caesar created himself dictator, and 
thereby destroyed, virtually, the republican form of gov- 
ernment, he usurped no more than the people did, when 
they erected themselves into a republic, and thereby de- 
stroyed the monarchy; and the existing circumstances 
which rendered the act of the latter expedient, were not 
more urgent than those which gave rise to the conduct of 
the former. 

Caesar, sir, was a great man ! 

5th Speaker. — Caesar, sir, was not a great man. He 
who for his own private views disobeyed the order of the 
senate, from whom he held his power — he who seduced 
from their duty, the soldiers whom he commanded in trust 
for the Republic — he who passed the Rubicon, though, by 
that step, he knew he must inundate his country with blood 
— he who plundered the public treasury, that he might in- 
dulge a selfish and rapacious ambition — he against whom 
the virtuous Cato ranked himself, whose very mercy the 
virtuous Cato deemed a dishonor to which death was 
preferable, — was not a great man. 

" Caesar erected himself into a tyrant, that he might 
prevent a repetition of those atrocities which had been 
committed by Marius and Sylla !" What does the gen- 
tleman mean by such an assertion ? Caesar pursues the 
same measures that Marius and Sylla did — why ? — To 
prevent the recurrence of the effects which those measures 
produced ! He keeps his eye steadfastly upon them — 
follows them in the same track — treads in their very foot- 
prints — why 1 — That he may arrive at a different point of 
destination ! What flimsy arguments are these ! What 
were Sylla and Marius, that Caesar was not ] If they 
were ambitious, was not he ambitious ! If they were 
treacherous, was not he treacherous 1 If they rebelled, 
did not he rebel % If they usurped, did not he usurp ] 
If they were tyrants, was not he a tyrant ! 

You were told that the people, from their long-con- 
tinued service in the army, gradually lost the spirit of in- 
dependence, and that the calamities of the state arose from 
that cause. Granted. — It follows, then, that a spirit of in- 
dependence was necessary for the prosperity of the state ; 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 221 

and, consequently, that the way to put a stop to its calami- 
ties, was to revive that spirit. Did Caesar do this ] The 
gentleman says, he had the happiness of his country at 
heart. From his own argument, it follows, that this was 
the way to secure the happiness of his country. Did 
Caesar adopt it ? Was it to revive in his countrymen the 
spirit of independence, that he audaciously stepped from 
the rank of their servant to that of their master 1 Was it 
to preserve the integrity which fosters that spirit, that he 
corrupted the virtue of all that came in contact with him, 
and that he dared to tempt 1 Was it for the regeneration 
of the republic, that he converted it into a tyranny] Was 
it to restore the government to its ancient health and 
soundness, that he filled all the offices of the state with his 
own creatures, the instruments of his usurpation % Was 
it to reanimate the people with a sense of their own dig- 
nity, that he called them Bruti and Cumcei — that is, beasts 
and fools — when they applauded the tribunes for having 
stripped his statues of the royal diadems with which his 
flatterers had dressed them"? These were the acts of 
Caesar. Did they tend to restore the ancient virtue of the 
Roman people % No, sir ; they tended to annihilate the 
chance of its restoration — to sink the people into a viler 
abasement — to rob them of the very names of men. 

But the gentleman has brought forward a very curious 
argument, for the purpose of proving that the Romans 
were incapable of being a free people ; namely, that their 
magistrates were the mere echoes of the people. He ad- 
verts, I suppose, to what were called the tribunes of the 
people, — officers that acted particularly for the plebeian 
orders, and were generally chosen from their body. But 
those magistrates, or tribunes, were, it seems, the mere 
voices of the people, and that circumstance rendered the 
people incapable of being free ! To me, at least, this is 
a paradox. Who elected these tribunes % — The people. 
What were they % — The representatives of the people. 
Whose affairs did they manage % — The affairs of the peo- 
ple. To whom were they responsible 1 — The people. 
What should they have been, then, but the voices, or, as 
the gentleman has expressed it, the echoes of the people 1 
But this circumstance rendered the Roman people incapa- 
ble of being free ! Did it shackle them to have a control 
over their tribunes] Did it enslave them to have a voice 



222 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

in their own measures ] Did it sell them into bondage to 
have the disposal of their own affairs ] If it did, I should 
advise you, sir, not to meddle with that honest man, your 
steward. Bid him let what farms he pleases ; demand 
what fines he pleases ; cultivate what land he pleases ; fell 
what timber he pleases ; keep what accounts he pleases ; 
and make what returns he pleases; lest, by impertinently 
meddling with your servant, in your own affairs, you rob 
yourself — ruin your estate — become involved in debt — 
and end your days in prison ! 

The admirers of Caesar, and, of course, of that form of 
government which was anciently called a tyranny, are ex- 
tremely fond of underrating the character of the Romans, 
as a free people ; their liberty they always represent to 
us as something bordering on excess ; and, following the 
idea that extremes meet, they describe it as verging into 
that extreme which naturally leads to despotism. But 
the hypothesis, which is not borne out by facts, is good 
for nothing. It was not the liberty which the plebeians 
enjoyed, that was the cause of their final enslavement. — 
It was the senate's jealousy of that liberty, — the senate's 
struggles for the control of that liberty, — the senate's 
plunder of that liberty, — the senate's desire to annihilate 
that liberty, which left it in the power of any crafty knave, 
miscalled a great man, who was sufficiently master of 
hypocrisy and daring, to set his foot on both the senate 
and the people, and make himself, as Caesar did, the ty- 
rant of his country ! 

6th Speaker. — It is not, Mr. Chairman, my present ob- 
ject to answer the arguments which have been so ably 
brought forward to support the negative of this question. 
I rise, to submit a few observations upon the nature of 
the question itself. I take the liberty of stating, that I 
think it an injudiciously selected question, — a vague and 
indefinite question, — a question which does not receive 
from every mind the same interpretation. I dare assert, 
Mr. Chairman, that, in this very assembly, there are va- 
rious and different opinions with respect to what consti- 
tutes a great man. Some will tell you, that greatness con- 
sists in rank, — some, in exploits, — some, in talents, — 
some, in virtue. Thus, sir, the very premises of our dis- 
cussion are unsettled and wavering ; and, from unsettled 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 223 

and wavering premises, what can proceed, but indefinite 
and inconclusive arguments. Already do the gentlemen 
on the opposite side endeavor to strain your question to 
the construction, that greatness essentially consists in good- 
ness ; and they may quote Mr. Pope, and say, " 'Tis 
phrase absurd to call a villain great." Others, again, may 
insist that greatness depends upon rank, and exclaim with 
Milton, " Worthiest, by being good, far more than great 
or high." Where are we to rest, sir, upon this doubtful 
basis 1 — This " neither sea nor good dry land !" I con- 
fess, Mr. Chairman, that, until this point shall have been 
disposed of, I cannot hope for an end to the debate ; and, 
therefore, propose, as an amendment, that previously to 
the farther discussion of the question, we shall determine, 
" what it is that constitutes a great man?" 

7th Speaker. — Mr. Chairman, I object to the amend- 
ment on two grounds ; first, because it is indecorous, with 
regard to you ; secondly, because it is uncalled for, with 
regard to the question. Your experience, sir, could never 
have allowed you to propose a question that required re- 
vision ; and had you proposed such a question, it would 
have been our duty to receive it without comment. The 
question in point does not require revision. You do 
not ask, if Caesar was a great warrior, or a great poli- 
tician ; but, if he was a great man. Surely, sir, in these 
enlightened times, we do not inquire what it is that con- 
stitutes a great man. Do we not refuse the name of man 
to him that violates the laws of morality and religion? 
And, if we wish to express that a person is eminently vir- 
tuous, do we not use that name without a single epithet'? 
To say of any one that he is a man, is to give him credit 
for the noblest endowments of the heart. To say that he 
is not a man, is to leave him destitute of any generous 
principle. The question cannot be viewed in any light 
but one, namely, as inquiring whether Caesar was a man 
of great virtues, and justifiable conduct ] If he was so, 
our opposition will be fruitless— if he was not so, those 
gentlemen exert their eloquence to little purpose. 

Upon what ground are we to acknowledge that Caesar 
was a great man 1 For my part, I am at a loss to account 
for the infatuation of those who call him so ; for his chief 
merit seems to have consisted in his talents as a warrior ; 



224 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

and those talents he certainly employed in a cause that 
cannot be defended, upon any principle of morality or re- 
ligion. What species of beings are we, that we laud to 
the skies those men whose names live in the recollection 
of a field of carnage, a sacked town, or a stormed citadel] 
— that we celebrate, at our convivial meetings, the exploits 
of him, who, in a single day, has more than trebled the 
ordinary havoc of death % that our wives and daughters 
weave garlands for the brow, whose sweat has cost the 
groans of widows and of orphans'? — and that our very babes 
are taught to twine the arms of innocence and purity about 
the knees that have been used to wade in blood 1 — I say, 
what species of beings are we, that we give our praise, 
our admiration, and our love to that which reason, relig- 
ion, interest, every consideration, should persuade us to 
condemn, — to avoid, — to abhor ! 

I do not mean to say, that war ought never to be wag- 
ed: — there are, at times, occasions when it is expedient, 
— necessary, — justifiable. But who celebrates with songs 
of triumph those commotions of the elements that call the 
awful lightning into action, — that hurl the inundating 
clouds to earth, — and send the winds into the deep to 
rouse its horrors 1 These things are necessary ; but we 
hail them not with shouts of exultation ; we do not clap 
our hands as they pass by us ; we do not throng in crowds 
to their processions ; we shudder as we behold them ! 
What species of beings are we ] We turn with disgust 
from the sight of the common executioner, who, in his time, 
has despatched a score or two of victims ; and we press 
to the heels of him, that in a single day, has been the ex- 
ecutioner of thousands ! 

Let us not call Caesar a great man, because he was a 
gTeat warrior. If we must admire him, let us seek some 
other warrant for our applauses, than what proceeds from 
the groans and writhings of humanity ! 

Let us, then, sir, first examine his youth ; — and here we 
are struck with his notable adventure with the pirates. 
These freebooters took him as he was sailing to Rhodes ; 
they asked twenty talents for his ransom ; and in derision 
of their moderation, he promised them fifty — the onus of 
which act of liberality was borne by the honest Milesians, 
who raised the money by a voluntary tax. He spent 
thirty-eight days with those pirates ; joined in their diver- 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 225 

Bions; took his exercises among them ; wrote poems and 
orations, which he rehearsed to them, and which, indeed, 
pirates as they were, they did not admire ; and, in short, 
lived among them with as much security, ease, and honor 
as if he had been in Rome. And what was the sequel ] 
His ransom arrives ; they keep their compact ; set him at 
liberty : he departs ; arrives at Miletus ; mans some ves- 
sels in the port of that place; returns; attacks these same 
pirates ; takes the greater number of them prisoners, and 
crucifies them to a man ! 

Was this a great act in Caesar 1 True ! he had prom- 
ised to do so, when they showed no great relish for the 
songs and speeches which he had written among them ; 
but should he have kept his promise] True ! they were 
a banditti, — they had deprived him of his liberty ; — but 
he had eaten at their board ; he had partaken of their 
diversions ; he had slept among them in sacred security ; 
he had railed at them without retort; threatened them, 
and only excited delight at his freedoms; — should he, Mr. 
Chairman, have crucified them 1 crucified them to a man 1 
Was there not one, at least, he might have spared % one 
bluff face, whose humor and confidence had pleased him 
above the rest 1 one hand, whose blunt officiousness he 
more particularly remembered 1 O, Mr. Chairman, do we 
admire the attachment which a wild beast displays toward 
its attentive keeper ; do we applaud that sacred and gen- 
eral principle of nature, which allows kindness to obliterate 
the sense of injury; and shall we give our sanction, praise, 
and admiration, to this exploit of Caesar's? 

What do we find him next about % He produces the 
images of Marius ! that man, who, as my worthy friend 
has said, returned the salutations of his fellow-citizens 
with the blows of his assassins; and marched to the Capi- 
tol amidst the groans of his butchered countrymen, expir- 
ing on each side of him. This was not following the steps 
of Marius ; it was justifying them ; it was expatiating upon 
them, in the language of veneration and triumph ! it was 
inviting to the standard of his ambition, every recreant 
that would sell the vigor of his arm to any cause, no mat- 
ter how bloody, how unnatural, how immoral, how sacri- 
legious ! 

I shall not comment upon the circumstance of his hav- 
ing been two hundred and fifty thousand pounds in debt, 
K 2 



226 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

before he obtained any public office ; neither shall I dwell 
upon his exhibition of three hundred and twenty pair of 
gladiators ; his diversions in the theatre ; his processions 
and entertainments, — in which, as Plutarch says, he far 
outshone the most ambitious that had gone before him ; 
and by which he courted the favor of the vile, the witless, 
the sensual, and the venal. I shall not expatiate upon 
the share he had in Catiline's conspiracy ; I shall not 
track him in his military career, by pointing out the ruin 
which he left behind him at every step : I shall simply 
answer those gentlemen, who argue, that Caesar usurped 
the supreme power for the public good, by examining the 
characters of the men who abetted him. 

Were your country, sir, in a state of anarchy ; were it 
distracted by the struggles of rival parties, drawn out, 
every now and then, in arms against one another ; and 
were you, sir, to attempt a reformation of manners, what 
qualifications would you require in the men, whom you 
would associate with you in such an undertaking ] What 
would content you? Talent] — No! Enterprise 1 ? — No! 
C ourage ] — No ! Reputation 1 — No ! Virtue % — No ! 
The men whom you would select, should possess, not one, 
but all of these : nor yet should that content you. They 
must be proved men ; tested men ; men that had, again and 
again, passed through the ordeal of human temptation, 
without a scar, without a blemish, without a speck ! You 
would not inquire out the man who was oppressed with 
debts, contracted by licentiousness, debauchery, every 
species of profligacy ! Who, sir, I ask, were Caesar's 
seconds in his undertaking % Crebonius Curio, one of 
the most vicious and debauched young men in Rome ; a 
creature of Pompey's, bought off by the illustrious Caesar ! 
Marcus Antonius, a creature of that creature's ; a young 
man so addicted to every kind of dissipation, that he had 
been driven from the paternal roof, — the friend and co- 
adjutor of that Clodius who violated the mysteries of the 
Bona Dea, and drove into exile the man that had been 
called the father of his country ! Paulus iEmilius, a 
patrician, a consul, a friend of Pompey's, — bought off by 
the great Caesar with a bribe of fifteen hundred talents ! 
Such, sir, were the abettors of Caesar. What, then, 
was Caesar's object ! Do we select extortioners to en- 
force the laws of equity ! Do we make choice of profli- 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 227 

gates to guard the morals of society 1 Do we depute 
atheists to preside over the rites of religion 1 What, I 
say, was Caesar's object 1 I will not press the answer : I 
need not press the answer : the premises of my argument 
render it unnecessary. The achievement of great objects 
does not belong to the vile ; or of virtuous ones to the 
vicious ; or of religious ones to the profane. Caesar did 
not associate such characters with him for the good of his 
country : his object was the gratification of his own am- 
bition, the attainment of supreme power; no matter by 
what means accomplished ; no matter by what consequences 
attended. He aspires to be the highest — above the peo- 
ple ! above the authorities ! above the laws ! above his 
country! and, in that seat of eminence, he was content to 
sit, though, from the centre to the far horizon of his power, 
his eyes could contemplate nothing but the ruin and des- 
olation by which he had reached to it ! 

8th Speaker. — JMr. Chairman, I solicit your attention. 

The gentleman says, we ought not to rejoice at the tri- 
umphs of the warrior ! Is this position, sir, to be received 
without the least restriction 1 Let us detect the sophistry 
of those who support the negative of the question. 

A caitiff enters your house at the dead hour of the night, 
prepared for robbery, and grasping the instrument of 
murder! You hear the tread of unknown feet — you rise, 
come upon the intruder, resist him, and lay him prostrate ! 
Shall your wife shudder, when you approach to tell her 
she is safe ? — Shall your children shrink from you, when 
you say you have averted the danger that threatened their 
innocent sleep 1 Why should they not ] I'll tell you, 
sir :— because you have followed the dictates of reason, of 
affection, of nature, and of God. Had you not been 
alarmed, — notwithstanding this imminent danger, had you 
risen in safety, and had you found the ruffian dead at 
your chamber-door, without a mark of violence upon 
him, — his ready weapon lying by his hand, — had you then 
called your family to behold the spectacle, what would 
they all have done] Would not some have fallen upon 
their knees 1 — would not others have stood with uplifted 
hands? — would not all have been transfixed with grati- 
tude, — with adoration, — that their Almighty guard had 
stretched his arm between them and destruction, and 



228 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

marked a limit which the murderer should not pass, with- 
out the penalty of death 1 And is the question changed, 
because you are the instrument of God] It would be 
preposterous to say so. If, then, your wife, your children, 
and family, shall bless the hand that has been the means 
of their preservation, — if they shall weep for gratitude, 
and press to you on every side, rejoicing in the protection 
of your arm, — shall he not hear the voice of gratulation, 
whose skill and valor have saved the lives of thousands, — 
have defended cities of matrons and children, not from 
unexpected destruction, but from destruction, again and 
again anticipated, — approaching before their eyes, and, at 
every step, acquiring additional horror ! 

Sir, there are warriors whose victories should be cele- 
brated with shouts and songs, — for whose brows our wives 
and daughters should weave garlands, and whose knees 
our infants should embrace ; — such warriors as guard the 
boundaries of their native land ! Though they have wad- 
ed through blood, fair is their aspect, Religion is the motto 
of their standard, and Mercy glances from their sword. — 
And had not Caesar been such a warrior'? Who were the 
enemies over whom he triumphed before his rupture with 
Pompey 1 Barbarians, that lived by predatory warfare ! 
— The people whose ancestors had once sacked Rome ! — 
who were the restless invaders of the Roman territory, 
and, in one of their incursions, annihilated a consular army 
of a hundred and twenty thousand men ! — a nation of 
robbers ! — ignorant of the laws of arms, — regardless of 
leagues and treaties, — the bloodhounds of havoc, — that 
destroyed for the mere gust of destroying ! 

But a very curious attack has been made upon the 
character of Caesar, namely, that he put a few pirates to 
death ! I question if the worthy gentleman understands 
what a pirate of those times signified. Probably, he con- 
ceives him to have been a rough, honest, free, merry kind 
of fellow, that loved a roving life, and indulged himself, 
only now and then, in a little harmless plunder ! He will 
not expect to be told, that he was a man, enrolled in a 
formidable band, — possessing, at times, a fleet of a thou- 
sand galleys, — making frequent descents upon the Italian 
coasts ; plundering villas, — temples, — and even towns ! — 
carrying off consuls and their lictors ! — tearing virgins from 
the arms of their aged parents! — murdering, in cold blood, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 229 

the prisoners whom they had taken, particularly Romans; 
— and spreading such terror over the seas, that no mer- 
chant-vessel dared to put out of port, and large districts 
of the empire were threatened with famine ! Surely the 
gentleman must be ignorant of these facts ; otherwise, he 
would not have chosen so untenable a position for attack. 
As to Caesar's forgetting that the pirate had been his host, 
it might indeed have been some ground for animadver- 
sion, had he ever remembered that he was so. Some 
gentlemen, truly, may be so much in love with hospitality 
as to admire it, though it should be forced upon them 
with handcuffs and fetters; and may have so curious a 
taste for visiting, as never to go abroad, except upon the 
requisition of a bailiff; or value an entertainment, unless 
the host turns the key upon them, and feasts them in a 
dungeon, with walls a yard thick, and windows double- 
barred. But, as such fancies cannot be called common, 
Caesar, I think, may escape without censure for not hav- 
ing indulged in them. 

And Caesar is to be condemned, because he produced 
the images of Marius, and revived his memory and 
honors ! Now, sir, I conceive a weaker ground of ac- 
cusation could not have been selected ; for the mere cir- 
cumstance of Marius's having been related to Caesar by 
marriage presents a very natural excuse for such a pro- 
ceeding, — particularly as it took place upon the death of 
Caesar's aunt, who was the wife of Marius. I fear the 
worthy gentleman does not follow Bacon's recommenda- 
tion, and chew and digest the nutritious food which his- 
torical reading presents to the mind ; otherwise, he must 
have perceived that Caesar's conduct on this occasion not 
only admitted of excuse, but even challenged commenda- 
tion. Let him return to the page which he has examined, 
I fear, too superficially, and he will find, that, up to that 
time, several of Sylla's partisans, — partisans in his mur- 
ders, — remained in Rome, — lived there, in peace, in 
safety, — perhaps in power : he will find the general asser- 
tion, that Caesar's conduct in having revived the memory 
of Marius, incensed the nobility ; and the particular asser- 
tion, that Catulus accused him before the senate. — This 
Catulus had been the distinguished friend of Sylla ; had 
been raised by Sylla to the consulship ; and, at Sylla's 
death, had preserved his remains from the deserved dis- 



230 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

honor of an ignominious burial ; had procured him the 
most magnificent funeral that had ever been seen in Rome, 
and caused the vestals and pontifices to sing hymns in 
praise of the man, who, as it has been justly said, con- 
verted Rome into a shambles with his butcheries ! — He 
will find, that Caesar answered the invectives of Catulus, 
and was acquitted with high applauses ; and that he, 
thereupon, attacked the remaining partisans of Sylla, 
brought them to trial, and having convicted such as had 
imbrued their hands in the blood of their fellow-citizens, 
caused them to be condemned to death, or to perpetual 
banishment ! 

Let us, sir, do justice to the dead, though their interests 
be parted from ours by the lapse of a hundred genera- 
tions ; — and, as this noble act of Caesar's followed the re- 
vival of his uncle's honors, let us believe that he revived 
his uncle's honors for the' purpose of performing this no- 
ble act, — that the memory of Sylla's enemy, being op- 
posed to the memory of Sylla, might deprive it of that 
power which gave impunity to murder, and guarded sacri- 
lege from vengeance ! 

As to the assertion, that Caesar's aims may be ascer- 
tained by examining the character of those whom he asso- 
ciated with him, it must go for nothing. The gentleman 
must recollect, that those very men had been the abettors 
of Pompey, — had been employed by Pompey, — ay ! and 
with the sanction of the senate, — in carrying on the meas- 
ures which he adopted against Caesar. 

Our cause may rest upon one single fact : — Rome was 
happy, prosperous, and honored, under Caesar's govern- 
ment ; and I shall have the hardihood to assert, that he, 
whose rule secures the happiness, prosperity, and glory 
of a nation, deserves to rule it. 

9th Speaker. — Sir, if you are not indebted to the gen- 
tleman that has just addressed you, I am sure the fault is 
not his. He has made you a present of a wife, and a fine 
thriving family, with all the happy et ceteras. Allow me, 
sir, to pay my compliments to you, in your new character 
— allow me to congratulate you upon your having escaped 
the bachelor's tax, — allow me to give you joy of a title, 
which becomes your grave deportment, — which you wear 
with a peculiar grace, — and which, I fervently trust, you 
will wear long ! 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 231 

Here, Mr. Chairman, I feel myself tolerably bold, for I 
have a good cause; and that is more than half the battle — 
sir, it is the whole of the battle, — it is the victory itself, — 
for, though Truth should be repulsed a hundred times, she 
will be triumphant at last. Defeated again, and again, she 
returns unwearied, whole, and confident, to the charge, — 
because she is immortal ! 

"As easy may you the intrenchant air 
With your keen sword impress, as make her bleed." 

But this kind of style does not belong to me, Mr. Chair- 
man. Unfortunately, I am a fellow so given to jesting, 
that I am always thought to be most in jest when I ap- 
pear to be serious : therefore, sir, I must talk to you in 
my own way — catching at the ideas just as they present 
themselves ; and giving them to you without examination, 
or order, or system, or any thing else that bespeaks a man 
of a sedate habit of thinking, — confiding every thing, as I 
said before, to the goodness of my cause. 

And, first of all, sir, I have not the least idea of calling 
a man great, because he has been a great conqueror! I 
do not like what are called your great conquerors ! your 
gentlemen that have slain their tens of thousands, and 
fought more battles than they are years old ! I care not 
in what cause they may have been engaged ; — that is the 
last consideration : for the very best cause may be in- 
trusted to the very worst man, — that is, with respect to 
morals, principles, and so forth. It is not virtue that is 
requisite to form such characters ; it is the contempt of 
death, — enterprise, — cunning, — skill, — resolution ; — and 
these may be found in a man who does not possess one 
single recommendation besides. How many a renowned 
general has turned his arms against the very cause, in 
whose defence he first took them up ! — as Caesar did ; — 
Caesar, who was commissioned by his country to subdue 
the Gauls, and then commissioned himself to subdue his 
country ! I wonder that any man, who has a regard for 
common sense, or plain honesty, can so far forget himself, 
as to justify Caesar's conduct in this particular. 

I shall state a very simple case to you, Mr. Chairman. 
You have a very large estate : you employ a couple of 
stewards to assist you in the management of it ; and you 
send one of them to reside in the most distant part of it. 



232 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

"Well, sir, this steward is a fellow of address : he manages 
his little government very skilfully ; keeps your tenants 
in due subjection, and your servants in admirable order; 
at the same time, taking care to secure himself in their 
good graces, by indulgences, and gifts, and flatteries, and 
every effective means of engaging esteem. Well, sir, in 
process of time, you determine to dismiss this steward ; 
but you retain the other — you recall him, that he may 
give an account of himself, and receive his discharge. 
Does he obey you 1 No — he does not stir a step ! He 
sets his arms akimbo, and thus accosts your messenger: — 
" Mr. Jack — or Thomas — or William — or Walter — pre- 
sent my duty to my master, and say, that when steward 
such-a-one receives his discharge, I'll accept mine." I 
should like to see your face, Mr. Chairman, upon your re- 
ceiving his message. I need not follow the supposition 
farther. You would do what you could. You would 
have him fined, — imprisoned, — hanged. — And yet, sir, 
such a man, — though acting upon a larger scale, — was 
the immortal Caesar. It makes one sick to hear the cause 
of such a man advocated ! — And let me recall to the recol- 
lection of those gentlemen, the truth, that greatness can- 
not consist in any thing that is at the disposal of chance ; 
or, rather, that exists by chance. — Had not fortune favored 
Caesar in his first battles, he would have been recalled, per- 
haps, brought to trial, and banished ; and then he would 
have been little Caesar. 

And now, sir, in the name of common sense, what 
mighty acts did Caesar perform, when he became the mas- 
ter of his country 1 We are told that the servile senate 
created him reformer of manners, — a fine reformer of 
manners, whose own manners stood so much in need of 
reforming ! — Sir, they should have rather made him in- 
spector of markets ; — for it was in that capacity he shone 
the most conspicuously. It is said, he limited the expense 
of feasts, and that his officers used to enter the houses of 
the citizens, and snatch from off their tables any meats 
that were served up contrary to his prohibition ! I should 
like to see a constable enter my parlor at dinner-time, and 
hand away a dish just as it had been placed upon the 
table ! But the best of it is, his restrictions affected cer- 
tain orders only. Men of rank might do as they pleased. 
They might have their litters, and their embroidered 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 233 

robes, and their jewels, — ay ! and, I dare say, their dishes 
without limit of number, or of quality, or of variety. Give 
me no great Caesar for the governor of my country. Give 
me such government as leaves the management of a man's 
table to himself! Give me such cities as have markets 
without informers ! — where a cook may ride in a carriage 
as fine as his own gilt and figured pastry; and a pin- 
maker may set you down to as many different dishes as 
there are minikins in a row ! 

In fine, Mr. Chairman, my opinion of Caesar is this : — 
He was a very fine fighter, — a very bad patriot, — a very 
selfish master, — and a very great rogue ! 

10th Speaker. — Sir, if my worthy friend has presented 
you with a wife and family, the last speaker is not behind 
hand with him; for he has given you a large estate to 
maintain them, — an estate so large, as to require two stew- 
ards to manage it ! 

As to the gentleman's eloquence in opposition to Cae- 
sar's greatness, he, himself, tells you what degree of im- 
portance you are to attach to his opinions ; for he very 
ingenuously says, you are not to expect anything serious 
from him ; but that you must accept of undigested ideas, 
and rash conclusions, in the place of sober reflection, and 
logical reasoning : his arguments, therefore, pass for noth- 
ing ; and do not add to the strength of his cause, or sub- 
tract from that of ours. 

In one instance, however, I shall comment upon what 
he has said ; because a man should not be frivolous even 
in his jesting. I allude to his wit, respecting the restraints 
that Caesar laid upon luxury. Surely, the gentleman can- 
not have been so great a victim to his mirth, as to have 
laughed away the fruit of his academic labors ! Surely, 
he cannot have forgotten that Caesar had proud authority 
for the policy he pursued in the respect alluded to ! Surely, 
he remembers a few of the laws of Lycurgus, particular- 
ly that which prescribed the diet of the Spartans, and en- 
joined all ranks to eat without distinction in one common 
hall, where the simplest repast was provided ! Surely, I 
need not remind him, that the heroes of Greece fared 
upon black broth, and drew their glory no less from the 
moderation of their appetite, than from the excess of their 
courage and patriotism. 



234 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

The gentleman says, it makes him sick to hear the 
cause of such a man as Caesar advocated ! I shall pre- 
scribe for his sickness. Let him take a dose of common 
sense, and use a little mental exercise : — that will remove 
his sickness. 

Caesar, sir, was a man of stupendous loftiness of mind ! 
A man above all influence of fortune ! — Himself, where 
other men would have been — nothing ! Observe him, 
when he is surprised by the Nervii. His soldiers are em- 
ployed in pitching their camp. — The ferocious enemy sal- 
lies from his concealment, puts the Roman cavalry to the 
rout, and falls upon the foot. Every thing is alarm, con- 
fusion, and disorder ! Every one is doubtful what course 
to take ! — Every one but Caesar ! He causes the banner 
to be erected, — the charge to be sounded, — the soldiers 
at a distance, recalled, — all in a moment ! He runs from 
place to place, — his whole frame is in action, — his words 
— his looks — his motion — his gestures, exhort his men to 
remember their former valor ! He draws them up, and 
causes the signal to be given, — all in a moment ! The 
contest is doubtful and dreadful ! — Two of his legions are 
entirely surrounded ! He seizes a buckler from one of 
the private men, — puts himself at the head of his broken 
troops ! — darts into the thick of the battle ! — rescues his 
legions, and overthrows the enemy. 

But, if you would contemplate Caesar in a situation 
where he is peculiarly himself, observe him attempting to 
cross the sea in a fishing-bark. A storm arises ; the 
waves and winds oppose his course ; the rowers, in de- 
spair, desist from their labor ! — Caesar, from the time he 
had entered the boat, had sat in silence, habited in the 
disguise of a slave, unknown to the sailors or the pilot. — 
Like a genius who could command the elements, he stands 
before the master of the vessel, in his proper shape, and 
cries, " Go on boldly, my friend, and fear nothing ! Thou 
carriest Caesar and his fortunes along with thee !" 

Really, sir, I cannot command my patience, when I 
hear those gentlemen indulge themselves in invectives 
against a man, the twentieth part of whose excellence, 
divided among the whole of them, would make them he- 
roes. 

I shall certainly vote for the affirmative of the question. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 235 

11th Speaker. — I regret, Mr. Chairman, that I must 
dissent from the last speaker, with regard to his admira- 
tion of Caesar. — I cannot, I confess, behold those incidents 
he has just named, in Caesar's life, in the same light that 
he does. When Caesar was surprised by the Nervii, he 
had a great cause at stake ; and his conduct was the natu- 
ral result of that consideration. That consideration made 
him collected, and gave him coolness to employ the readi- 
est means of extricating himself from the danger that 
threatened him. Besides, he was no raw commander ; 
he had subdued the Helvetians, the Germans, and the 
Belgians : nor was his rescuing the two legions that were 
surrounded by the enemy so wonderful an exploit. He 
was joined, at that critical moment, by the force that he 
had left to guard his baggage ; — nor was his success more 
the consequence of his courage in leading his men into 
the thickest of the fight, than of the enthusiasm of his sol- 
diers who followed their general, and whose dearest honor 
was, then, most particularly concerned in his safety. 

Caesar, an ambitious general, attempted to cross the sea 
in a fishing-bark! — A lover swam across the Hellespont ! 
— Caesar's fortunes and life were at stake. — He had only 
a handful of men with him, and Antony was loitering, as 
he supposed, near Brundusium, — Leander had his mistress 
at stake !• — I will not, Mr. Chairman, trespass any longer 
on your patience. I am sure you will agree with me, 
that great exploits must have noble ends — and then, in- 
deed, they make the executor great. 

" Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, 
Is but the more a fool, — the more a knave. 
Who noble ends, by noble means, obtains, 
Or, failing, smiles, in exile or in chains, — 
Like good Aurelius, let him sigh, or bleed 
Like Socrates — that man is great indeed." 

12th Speaker. — Mr. Chairman, a gentleman has said 
that the man whose rule secures the happiness, prosperity, 
and glory of a nation, deserves to rule it. With equal 
confidence, I assert, that the man who obtains the rule of 
his country, by violating its laws, — how much soever he 
may contribute to make it happy, prosperous, and great, — 
does not deserve to rule it. He sets a bad example, — an 
example, the more pernicious, as his virtues seem to pal- 



236 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

liate the atrocity of his usurpation. He leaves it in the 
power of any wretch, who may possess his ambition, with- 
out his excellence, to quote his name, and use it as an au- 
thority for the commission of similar crimes. 

No gentleman has yet presumed to say that Caesar's 
conduct was sanctioned by the laws of Rome, — those laws 
that guarded more cautiously against the approaches of 
tyranny than against the invasion of a foreign enemy, — 
those laws which justified any private man in putting to 
death the person whom he could afterward prove to 
have been guilty of meditating usurpation. Caesar, then, 
did not deserve to rule his country; for he violated its 
laws. A good man respects the laws of his country : 
Caesar was not in this view a good man, — Caesar was not 
in this view a great man ; for goodness is an essential part 
of greatness. 

Let us now examine how far he deserved to rule his 
country, because, as it has been said, he secured its hap- 
piness, prosperity, and greatness. Sir, I do not believe 
that he accomplished, any such object. To dispose of all 
offices and honors, just as his own interest, or fancy, di- 
rected his choice of candidates ; to create new offices for 
the gratification of his favorites and creatures, — making 
the public property the recompense of public delinquen- 
cy ; to degrade the venerable senate, by introducing into 
it persons whose only claim to that dignity was their ser- 
vile devotion to his interests, — common soldiers, — the 
sons of freedmen, — foreigners, and so forth ; — I say, sir, 
to adopt such measures as these, had not a tendency to 
secure the happiness or prosperity of his country. But 
upon what ground does the gentleman assert, that Caesar 
secured the greatness of his country 1 Was it by extend- 
ing the fame of its arms ] There was another kind of fame, 
which the Roman people valued more than the fame of 
their arms, — the fame of their liberty ! There was an- 
other kind of greatness, dearer to their pride than all the 
wealth or honor that could result from foreign victory, — 
that kind of greatness which gloried, not in the establish- 
ing, but in the destroying of tyranny; which drove a Tar- 
quin from the throne, and cast an Appius into prison ; 
which called their proudest heroes from heads of armies, 
and the rule of conquered nations, into the equal ranks of 
private citizens. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 237 

A gentleman, speaking of Caesar's benevolent disposi- 
tion, and of the reluctance with which he entered into the 
civil war, observes, " How long did he pause upon the 
brink of the Rubicon !" How came he to the brink of 
that river 1 How dared he cross it 1 Shall private men 
respect the boundaries of private property; and shall a 
man pay no respect to the boundaries of his country's 
rights 1 How dared he cross that river ? — Oh ! but he 
paused upon the brink! He should have perished on the 
brink, ere he had crossed it! Why did he pause] — Why 
does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the point of 
committing an unlawful deed 1 Why does the very mur- 
derer, his victim sleeping before him, and his glaring eye 
taking the measure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal 
part? — Because of conscience ! 'Twas that made Caesar 
pause upon the brink of the Rubicon ! Compassion ! — 
What compassion 1 ? The compassion of an assassin, that 
feels a momentary shudder, as his weapon begins to cut ! 
Caesar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon ! — -What 
was the Rubicon? — The boundary of Caesar's province. 
From what did it separate his province 1 — From his 
country. Was that country a desert ? — No : it was cul- 
tivated and fertile ; rich and populous ! Its sons were 
men of genius, spirit, and generosity! Its daughters were 
lovely, susceptible, and chaste ! Friendship was its in- 
habitant ! — Love was its inhabitant ! — Domestic affection 
was its inhabitant ! — Liberty was its inhabitant ! — All 
bounded by the stream of the Rubicon ! What was 
Caesar, that stood upon the brink of that stream 1 — A trai- 
tor, bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that 
country ! No wonder that he paused,— -no wonder if, his 
imagination wrought upon by his conscience, he had be- 
held blood instead of water ; and heard groans instead 
of murmurs ! — No wonder if some gorgon horror had 
turned him into stone upon the spot ! But, no ! — he cried, 
"The die is cast!" He plunged! — he crossed! — and 
Rome was free no more ! 

Again. It has been observed, " How often did he at- 
tempt a reconciliation with Pompey, and offer terms of 
accommodation !" Would gentlemen pass tricks upon us 
for honest actions 1 Examine the fact. Caesar keeps his 
army on foot, because Pompey does so. What entitles 
either of them to keep his army on foot 1 The commis- 



238 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

sion of his country. By that authority, they levied their 
armies ; — by that authority, they should disband them. 
Had Caesar that authority to keep his army on foot 1 — No. 
Had Pompey 1 — Yes. What right, then, had Caesar to 
keep his army on foot, because Pompey did so ] His 
army ! It was the army of his country, — enrolled by the 
orders of his country, — maintained by the treasure of his 
country, — fighting under the banners of his country, — se- 
duced by his flatteries, his calumnies, and his bribes, to 
espouse the fortunes of a traitor. Sir, he never sincerely 
sought an accommodation. Had he wished to accomplish 
such an object, he would have adopted such measures as 
were likely to obtain it. He would have obeyed the or- 
der of the senate ; disbanded his troops ; laid down his 
command, and appeared in Rome a private citizen. Such 
conduct would have procured him more dignity, more 
fame, more glory, than a thousand sceptres ; — he would 
not have come to parley with the trumpet, and the stand- 
ard ; the spear, and the buckler ; — he would have proved 
himself to have been great in virtue. 

Upon the same principle, his clemency must go for 
nothing : — clemency ! — to attribute clemency to a man, is 
to imply that he has a right to be severe, — a right to 
punish. Caesar had no right to punish. His clemency ! 
— it was the clemency of an outlaw — a pirate — a rob- 
ber — who strips his prey — but then abstains from slaying 
him! 

You were also told that he paid the most scrupulous 
respect to the laws. He paid the most scrupulous respect 
to the laws ! — he set his foot upon them ; and, in that 
prostrate condition, mocked them with respect ! 

But, if you would form a just estimate of Caesar's aims, 
look to his triumphs after the surrender of Utica — Utica, 
more honored in being the grave of Cato, than Rome in 
having been the cradle of Caesar ! 

You will read, sir, that Caesar triumphed four times. 
First, for his victory over the Gauls ; secondly, over 
Egypt; thirdly, over Pharnaces; lastly, over Juba, the 
friend of Cato. His first, second, and third triumphs 
were, we are told, magnificent. Before him marched the 
princes, and noble foreigners of the countries he had con- 
quered ; his soldiers, crowned with laurels, followed him ; 
and the whole city attended with acclamations. This was 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 239 

well ! — the conqueror should be honored. His fourth tri- 
umph approaches — as magnificent as the former ones. It 
does not want its royal captive, its soldiers crowned with 
laurels, or its flushed conqueror, to grace it ; nor is it less 
honored by the multitude of its spectators ; — but they send 
up no shout of exultation ; they heave loud sighs ; their 
cheeks are frequently wiped ; their eyes are fixed upon 
one object, that engrosses all their senses — their thoughts 
— their affections. — It is the statue of Cato !— carried be- 
fore the victor's chariot ! It represents him rending open 
his wound, and tearing out his bowels ; as he did in Uti- 
ca, when Roman liberty was no more ! Now, ask if 
Caesar's aim was the welfare of his country ] Now, doubt 
if he was a man governed by a selfish ambition ! Now, 
question whether he usurped, for the mere sake of usurp- 
ing] He is not content to triumph over the Gauls, the 
Egyptians, and Pharnaces ; he must triumph over his own 
countrymen ! He is not content to cause the statues of 
Scipio and Petreius to be earned before him ; he must be 
graced by that of Cato ! He is not content with the sim- 
ple effigy of Cato; he must exhibit that of his suicide! 
He is not satisfied to insult the Romans with triumphing 
over the death of liberty : they must gaze upon the repre- 
sentation of her expiring agonies, and mark the writhings 
of her last — fatal struggle ! 

Mr. Chairman, I confidently anticipate the triumph of 
our cause. 

13th Speaker. — Sir, with great reluctance, I present 
myself to your notice at this late hour. "We have proved 
that your patience is abundant, — we cannot presume that 
it is inexhaustible. I shall exercise it only for a few mo- 
ments. Were our cause to be judged by the approbation 
which our opponents have received, it would appear to be 
lost. But that is far from being the case, Mr. Chairman. 
The approbation they receive is unaccompanied by con- 
viction. — It is a tribute, — and a merited one, — to their elo- 
quence, and has not any reference to the justice of the 
part they take. Our cause is not lost, — is not in danger, 
— does not apprehend danger. We are as strong as ever, 
— as able for the contest, and as confident of victory. We 
fight under the banners of Caesar ; and Caesar never met 
an open enemy without subduing him. 



240 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

"We grant that Caesar was a usurper; but we insist, that 
the circumstances of the times justified his usurpation. 
We insist, that he became a usurper for the good of his 
country; for the salvation of the republic; for the preserva- 
tion of its very existence ! What must have been the 
state of Roman liberty, when such men as Marius and 
Sylla could become usurpers 1 — monsters, against whose 
domination, nature and religion exclaimed ! 

Gentlemen talk very prettily about the criminality of 
usurpation. They know it is a popular theme. All men 
are tenacious of their property; and the gentlemen think 
that, if they can carry the feelings of their auditors along 
with them, in this respect, they may be certain of success 
in every other. We have not any objection to their flat- 
tering themselves with such fancies ; but the cause of jus- 
tice shall not be sacrificed to their gratification : surely 
those gentlemen must be ignorant of the state of the re- 
public in those times ; surely they have never heard, or 
read, that massacre was the common attendant of public 
elections ; that the candidates brought their money — 
openly — to the place of election, and distributed it among 
the heads of the different factions, — that those factions em- 
ployed force and violence, in favor of the persons who paid 
them; and that scarce any office was disposed of without 
being disputed, sword in hand, and without costing the 
lives of many citizens ! 

A gentleman very justly said, that the love of country 
is the first, the second, and the last principle of a virtuous 
mind. Now, sir, it appears that the Roman people sold 
their country! — its offices — its honors — its liberty; sold 
them to the highest bidder, — as they would sell their 
wares — a sheep — or the quarter of an ox ; and that, after 
they had struck the bargain, they threw themselves into 
it, and fought manfully for the purchaser! Cicero and 
Cato lived in these times, — Cicero, that saved Rome from 
the conspiracy of Catiline, — Cato, who would not survive 
the liberty of his country. The latter attempted to stop 
the progress of the corruption; but his efforts were fruit- 
less. He could neither restrain its progress, nor mitigate 
its virulence. Thus, sir, the independence of the republic 
was virtually lost, before Caesar became a usurper ; and, 
therefore, to say that Caesar destroyed the independence, 
or liberty of his country, is to assert that he destroyed a 
nonentity. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 241 

It was happily remarked, that the power of interfering 
with the tribunes was fatal to the Roman people. Yes, 
sir, it was fatal. The tribunes ought to have been inde- 
pendent of the people, from the moment of their entering 
on their office to that of their laying it down. You were 
told, the people had a right to the direction of their own 
affairs. Yes, sir, they had a right. We do not dispute 
that. But it was a right by the abandonment of which 
they would have been gainers. It was a fatal right, by 
grasping which, they lost every thing. It was an incon- 
sistent right ; for they stood as much in need of being pro- 
tected from themselves, as of being protected from the 
nobility. Why does any man put his affairs into the 
hands of another, but because he cannot manage them so 
well himself? If he cannot manage them so well himself, 
why should he interfere with the person to whose conduct 
he intrusts them *? Because he has a right ! I know he 
has ; but it is an unfortunate right, for it leaves it in his 
power to ruin himself, in spite of good counsel and friend- 
ship ! 

Gentlemen talk of what are called the people, as if 
they were the most enlightened part of the community ! 
Are they the guardians of learning 1 — or of the arts 1 — or 
of the sciences % Do we select counsellors from them "? — 
or judges 1 — or legislators % Do we inquire among them 
for rhetoricians % — logicians % — or philosophers % — or, rath- 
er, do we not consider them as little cultivated in mind 1 
— little regulated by judgment] — much influenced by 
prejudice % — greatly subject to caprice ! — chiefly governed 
by passion ! — of course, sir, I speak of what are generally 
called the people — the crowd, the mass of the community. 
But you ask me for a proof of the bad effects that resulted 
to the Roman people, from the liberty they possessed, of 
legislating directly for themselves. Look, sir, to the pro- 
ceedings of the forum! — What they did, they undid; 
what they erected, they threw down : they enacted laws, 
and they repealed them ; they elected patriots, and they 
betrayed them ; they humbled tyrants, and they exalted 
them ! You will find, that the great converted the undue 
power, which the people possessed, into the means of 
subjugating the people. If they feared a popular leader, 
it was only necessary to spread by their emissaries a sus- 
picion of his integrity, or set the engine of corruption to 

L 



242 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

work, upon that frailest of all fortifications, popular stabil- 
ity ; — and thus, sir, they carried their point, humbled their 
honest adversaries, and laughed in the face of the wisest 
and most salutary laws. 

Mr. Chairman, I think that the times in which Caesar 
lived, called for, and sanctioned, his usurpation. I think 
his object was, to extinguish the jealousies of party ; to put 
a stop to the miseries that resulted from them ; and to 
unite his countrymen. I think the divided state of the 
Roman people exposed them to the danger of a foreign 
yoke ; from which they could be preserved, only by re- 
ceiving a domestic one. I think that Caesar was a srreat 
man ; and I conclude my trial of your patience, with the 
reply made to Brutus by Statilius, who had once deter- 
mined to die in Utica with Cato ; and by Favonius, an 
esteemed philosopher of those times. These men were 
sounded by Brutus, after he had entered into the con- 
spiracy for murdering Caesar. The former said : he 
" would rather patiently suffer the oppressions of an ar- 
bitrary master, than the cruelties and disorders which 
generally attend civil dissensions." The latter declared, 
that, in his opinion, a " civil war was worse than the most 
unjust tyranny." 

Chairman.* — Gentlemen, I have listened, w r ith the high- 
est gratification, to your debate ; and I rise, not so much 
to attempt anything like a decision of the subject, by put- 
ting it to vote, as to give a brief summary of the argu- 
ments advanced on both sides of the question, and venture 
a few suggestions, embracing my views, as an individual, 
on the topics under discussion. 

The advocates of Caesar have pleaded his cause with 
warmth and eloquence. They have done justice to his 
splendid qualities as a warrior, to the amiable traits of his 
personal character, to the loftiness of his genius, and its 
singular versatility. They have shown us the hero in the 

* Mr. Knowles's eloquent debate, having- been written for a particular 
class of his own pupils, contained, in its original form, several personal al- 
lusions, inapplicable to other classes. These have been necessarily omit- 
ted ; and the farther liberty has been taken of adding a concluding address 
from the Chairman, for the purpose of giving a regular close to the discus- 
sion, and a definite view of the question. — It may interest the numerous 
admirers of the accomplished and lamented elocutionist, Mr. W. H. Sim- 
mons, to be informed that his first public appearance, in youth, was as a 
speaker in this debate, under the tuition of the compilers father. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 243 

battle-field, amid the shock of the encounter. They have 
not failed to display his consummate generalship, his un- 
paralleled ascendency over the spirit of his troops, the 
ardor and certainty with which he ever grasped at vic- 
tory, and compelled her, as it were, to follow in his foot- 
steps. We have heard of his mastery in the art of ora- 
tory. We have been shown the man, in his native clem- 
ency and generosity ; and had his advocates chosen, we 
might have been reminded that as a scholar, a poet, an 
astronomer, — let his reform of the calendar testify, — ay, 
and even, (what is of some moment in these modern days 
of bridges, viaducts, and rail-roads,) that, as a practical 
architect and engineer, — witness his ever-memorable 
bridge over the Rhine, — he surpassed all the eminent 
names of antiquity. Every noble attribute of character 
has been justly assigned to him — with the exception of 
purity of motive. 

The respondents in our debate have, accordingly, rested 
the main stress of their argument on this capital defect in 
Caesar's character. They have involved the necessity of 
pure intention, as the prime element of even political 
greatness. Tried by this standard, (may I be permitted 
to say 1) Caesar falls. Dazzled by the prize of universal 
sovereignty, he rushes to seize it, and feels not, till too 
late, that, in the act, he has trampled on the prostrate lib- 
erty of his country. He would rule his countrymen, for 
their good, he fondly hopes. But his determination to 
rule is uppermost. For this end he toils, he bleeds, he 
watches ; and woe ! to whomsoever shall withstand him. 
As he strides onward to his object, the sacred claims of 
country — friendship — consanguinity, are, to him, but as 
the threads of the gossamer; and we behold, with horror 
and disgust, a colossal self, erected upon the ruins of a 
universal desolation. 

Reviewing the ground which, in the course of the dis- 
cussion, we have surveyed, we shall all, I presume, agree 
in awarding to Caesar the greatness of the military char- 
acter. In war, he stands forth the hero. We shall all 
concede the stupendous character of his genius, as a man 
of intellect, and a man of action. The transcendent meed 
of moral greatness we cannot accord to him ; save in a 
few detached attributes. His character had not the vital 
unity of an unsullied conscience. 



244 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

His political greatness was that of a successful partisan, 
— not of a patriot. If we wish to see his character in its 
true light, let us place him, for a moment, by the side of 
our own revered Washington. Can we award the same 
epithet to both alike 1 As Americans, we revolt at the 
idea. — We should consider Washington's name as dese- 
crated by the contact. His motives were purely patriot- 
ic, — Caesar's were personal and selfish. 

In a word, it seems to me, that we ought to regard 
Caesar as a man of great traits in intellect and action, but 
not possessed of true greatness of character. 



Exercise CIX. 

Scene from King Richard II. — Shakspeare. 
A Room in the Palace. — King Richard, Bolingbroke, and Norfolk. 

Boling. First, (Heaven be the record to my speech !) 
In the devotion of a subject's love, 
Tendering the precious safety of my prince, 
And free from misbegotten hate, 
Come I appellant to this princely presence. — 
Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, 
And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak, 
My body shall make good upon this earth, 
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven ; — 
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant j 
Too good to be so, and too bad to live : 
Once more, the more to aggravate the note, 
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat ; 
And wish, (so please my sovereign,) ere I move, 
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may prove. 

Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal : 
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, 
The bitter clamor of two eager tongues 
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : 
The blood is hot that must be cooled for this : 
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, 
As to be hushed, and naught at all to say : 
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me 
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ; 
Which else would post, until it had returned 
These terms of treason doubled down his throat. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 245 

Setting aside bis high blood's royalty, 

And let him be no kinsman to my liege, 

I do defy him, and I spit at him ; 

Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain : 

Which to maintain, I would allow him odds ; 

And meet him, were I tied to run afoot 

Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, 

Or any other ground inhabitable 

Wherever Englishman durst set his foot. 

Meantime, let this defend my loyalty, — 

By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. 

f Boling. Pale, trembling coward, there I throw my gage, 

Disclaiming here the kindred of a king ; 

And lay aside my high blood's royalty, 

Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. 

If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength 

As to take up mine honor's pawn, then stoop : 

By that and all the rights of knighthood, else, 

Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, 

What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. 

Nor. I take it up ; and, by that sword I swear, 
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, 
I'll answer thee in any fair degree, 
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial ; 
And when I mount, alive may I not light, 
If I be traitor, or unjustly fight ! 

K, Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge % 
It must be great, that can inherit us 
So much as of a thought of ill in him. [true; — 

Boling. Look, — w T hat I speak my life shall prove it 
That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles, 
In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers ; 
The which he hath detained for lewd employments, 
Like a false traitor and injurious villain. 
Besides I say, and will in battle prove, — 
Or here, or elsewhere, to the farthest verge 
That ever was surveyed by English eye, — 
That all the treasons, for these eighteen years 
Complotted and contrived in this land, 
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. 
Farther I say, — and farther will maintain 
Upon his bad life, — to make all this good, — 
That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death ; 



246 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Suggest his soon-believing adversaries ; 

And, consequently, like a traitor coward, 

Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood 

Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, 

Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, 

To me for justice, and rough chastisement; 

And by the glorious worth of my descent, 

This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. 

K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars ! 
Thomas of Norfolk, what sayest thou to this % 

Nor. Oh ! let my sovereign turn away his face, 
And bid his ears a little while be deaf, 
Till I have told this slander of his blood, 
How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar. 

K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears. 
Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, 
(As he is but my father's brother's son,) 
Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow, 
Such neighbor nearness to our sacred blood 
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize 
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul ; 
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ; 
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. 

Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, 
Through the false passage of thy throat thou liest ! 
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, 
Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers : 
The other part reserved I by consent ; 
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, 
Upon remainder of a dear account, 
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen : 
Now swallow down that lie. — For Gloster's death, — 
I slew him not ; but to my own disgrace, 
Neglected my sworn duty in that case. — 
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, 
The honorable father to my foe, 
Once did I lay an ambush for your life, — 
A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul : 
But, ere I last received the sacrament, 
I did confess it, and exactly begged 
Your grace's pardon ; and, I hope, I had it. 
This is my fault : as for the rest appealed, 
It issues from the rancor of a villain, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 247 

A recreant and most degenerate traitor : 

Which in myself I boldly will defend ; 

And interchangeably hurl down my gage 

Upon this overweening traitor's foot, 

To prove myself a loyal gentleman 

Even in the best blood chambered in his bosom : 

In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 

Your highness to assign our trial day. 

K. Rick. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me : 
Let's purge this choler without letting blood : 
This we prescribe, though no physician ; 
Deep malice makes too deep incision : 
Forget, forgive, conclude, and be agreed ; 
Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed. — 
Norfolk, throw down ; there is no boot. 

Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. 
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame ! 
The one my duty owes ; but my fair name 
(Despite of death, that lives upon my grave,) 
To dark dishonor's use thou shalt not have. 
I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here ; 
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear ; 
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood 
Which breathed this poison. 

K. Rich. Rage must be withstood : 
Give me his gage : — lions make leopards tame. 

Nor. Yea, but not change their spots : take but my shame, 
And I resign my gage. My dear, dear lord, 
The purest treasure mortal times afford, 
Is — spotless reputation ; that away, 
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay ; 
A jewel in a ten times barred-up chest 
Is — a bold spirit in a loyal breast. 
Mine honor is my life ; both grow in one. 
Take honor from me, and my life is done : 
Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try ; 
In that I live, and for that will I die. 

K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage ; do you begin. 

Bolhig. O God defend my soul from such foul sin ! 
Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight % 
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height 
Before this outdared dastard 1 Ere my tongue 
Shall wound mine honor with such feeble wrong, 



248 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 
The slavish motive of recanting fear, 
And spit it bleeding, in his high disgrace, 
Where shame doth harbor, even in Mowbray's face. 

K. Rich. We were not born to sue ; but to command 
Which, since we cannot do to make you friends, 
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, 
At Coventry, upon St. Lambert's day; 
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
The swelling difference of your settled hate ; — 
Since we cannot atone you, we shall see 
Justice design the victor's chivalry. — 
Lord Marshal, command our officers at arms 
Be ready to direct these home alarms. 



Exercise CX. 

Scene from the Merchant of Venice. — Shakspeare. 

Venice — A Street. 

[Enter Launcelot Gobbo.] 
Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run 
from this Jew, my master : the fiend is at mine elbow ; 
and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, 
good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, 
use your legs, take the start, run away : my conscience says 
— No, take heed, honest Launcelot ; take heed, honest Gob- 
bo ; or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not run ; 
scorn running with thy heels : well, the most courageous 
fiend bids me pack ; via ! says the fiend; away ! says the 
fiend, for the heavens ; rouse up a brave mind, says the 
fiend, and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the 
neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, — my honest 
friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son, — well, my 
conscience says, Launcelot, budge not ; budge, says the 
fiend ; budge not, says my conscience : conscience, say I, 
you counsel well ; fiend, say I, you counsel well : to be 
ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew, my 
master, who, (bless the mark !) is a kind of devil ; and, to 
run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, 
who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself: certain- 
ly, the Jew is the very devil incarnation ; and, in my con- 
science, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 249 

to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew : the fiend 
gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; my 
heels are at your commandment, I will run. 

[Enter old Gobbo, with a basket.] 

Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray you ; which is 
the way to Master Jew's 1 ? 

Lawn. [Aside.] O heavens, this is my own father ! who, 
being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me 
not ; I will try conclusions with him. 

Gob. Master, young gentleman, I pray you, which is 
the way to Master Jew's 1 

Latin. Turn up on your right hand, at the next turning; 
but, at the next turning of all, on your left ; marry, at the 
very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down in- 
directly to the Jew's house. 

Gob. Sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. — Can you tell 
me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell 
with him, or no 1 

Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? — Mark 
me now, [aside] now will I raise the waters : — Talk you 
of young Master Launcelot 1 ? 

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son ; his father, 
though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, 
God be thanked, well to live. 

Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of 
young Master Launcelot. 

Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 

Laun. But I pray you ergo, old man, ergo I beseech 
you ; talk you of young Master Launcelot ] 

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 

Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot ; talk not of Master 
Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, (according 
to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters 
three, and such branches of learning,) is deceased, or, as 
you would say, in plain terms, gone to heaven. 

Gob. Marry, Heaven forbid ! the boy was the very staff 
of my age, my very prop. 

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a staff, 
or a prop? — Do you know me, father 1 

Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman ; 
but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, (rest his soul !) alive 
or dead ? 

L2 



250 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Laun. Do you not know me, father 1 

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind, I know you not. 

Laun. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son : 
give me your blessing, father : truth will come to light ; 
murder cannot be hid long ; but, in the end truth will out. 
— I am your son. 

Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up ; I am sure you are not 
Launcelot, my boy. 

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, 
but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy 
that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. 

Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 

Laun. I know not what I shall think of that : but I am 
Launcelot, the Jew's man ; and, I am sure Margery, your 
wife, is my mother. 

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, 
thou art mine own flesh and blood. [Launcelot here -pre- 
sents the back of his head.] Worshipped might he be ! what 
a beard thou hast got ! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, 
than Dobbin, my thill-horse, has on his tail. 

Laun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail grows 
backward ; I am sure he had more hair on his tail, than 
I have on my face, when I last saw him. 

Gob. Lord, how art thou changed ! How dost thou and 
thy master agree % I have brought him a present; how 
'gree you now % 

Laun. Well, well ; but, for mine own part, as I have 
set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have 
run some ground : my master's a very Jew ; give him a 
present ! give him a halter : I am famished in his service; 
you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I 
am glad you are come ; give me your present to one Mas- 
ter Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries ; if I 
serve not him, I will run as far as there is any ground. — 

rare fortune ! here comes the man; to him, father; for 

1 am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 

[Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and other followers.] 

Bass. See these letters delivered; put the liveries to 
making ; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodg- 
ings. [Exit a servant. 

Laun. To him, father. 

Gob. Heaven bless your worship ! 



TIECES FOR PRACTICE. 251 

Bass. Gramercy ; wouldst thou aught with me 1 

Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy — 

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man ; 
that would, sir, as my father shall specify — 

Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, 
to serve — 

Laun. Indeed, the short and long is, I serve the Jew ; 
and I have a desire, as my father shall specify — 

Gob. His master and he, (saving your worship's reve- 
rence !) are scarce cater-cousins : 

Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew, hav- 
ing done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being I 
hope an old man, shall fructify unto you,— 

Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I would bestow 
upon your worship ; and my suit is, — 

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, 
as your worship shall know by this honest old man ; and, 
though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father. 

Bass. One speak for both ; — What would you 1 

Laun. Serve you, sir. 

Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. 

Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtained thy suit; 
Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day, 
And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment, 
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
The follower of so poor a gentleman. 

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between 
my Master Shylock and you, sir ; you have the grace of 
God, sir, and he hath enough. 

Bass. Thou speak'st it well ; go, father, with thy son ; — 
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
My lodging out ; — give him a livery [to his followers. 

More guarded than his fellows' ; see it done. 

[Exeunt Bassanio y 8fc. 

Laun. Father, in ! — I cannot get a service, no ; — I have 
ne'er a tongue in my head. Well ; [looking on his palm,] 
if any man in Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to 
swear upon a book. — I shall have good fortune ; go to, 
here's a simple line of life ! here's a small trifle of wives ; 
and then to 'scape drowning thrice ; here are simple 
'scapes ! Well, if fortune be a woman, she's a good girl 
for this gear. Father, come ; I'll take my leave of the 
Jew in the twinkling of an eye. 



252 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Exercise CXI. 
Scene from the Vespers of Palermo. — Mrs. Hemans. 

Scene. — A Valley, with Vineyards and Cottages. 

Group of Peasants — Procida, disguised as a Pilgrim, 
among them. 

First Peasant. Ay, this was wont to be a festal time 
In days gone by ! I can remember well 
The old familiar melodies that rose 
At break of morn, from all our purple hills, 
To welcome in the vintage. Never since 
Hath music seemed so sweet. But the light hearts 
Which to those measures beat so joyously 
Are tamed to stillness now. There is no voice 
Of joy through all the land. 

Second Peasant. Yes ! there are sounds 
Of revelry within the palaces, 
And the fair castles of our ancient lords, 
Where now the stranger banquets. Ye may hear 
From thence the peals of song and laughter rise 
At midnight's deepest hour. 

Third Peasant. Alas ! we sat 
In happier days, so peacefully beneath 
The olives and the vines our fathers reared, 
Encircled by our children, whose quick steps 
Flew by us in the dance ! The time hath been 
When peace was in the hamlet, wheresoe'er 
The storm might gather. But this yoke of France 
Falls on the peasant's neck as heavily 
As on the crested chieftain's. We are bowed 
E'en to the earth. 

Peasant's Child. My father, tell me, when 
Shall the gay dance and song again resound 
Amid our chestnut-woods, as in those days 
Of which thou'rt wont to tell the joyous tale ? 

First Peasant. When there are light and reckless hearts 
In Sicily's green vales. Alas ! my boy, [once more, 

Men meet not to quaff the flowing bowl, 
To hear the mirthful song, and cast aside 
The weight of work-day care : — they meet to speak 
Of wrongs and sorrows, and to whisper thoughts 
They dare not breathe aloud. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 253 

Procida. [From the back-ground.] Ay, it is well 
So to relieve th' o'erburdened heart, which pants 
Beneath its weight of wrongs ; but better far 
In silence to avenge them ! 

Second Peasant. What deep voice 
.Came with that startling tone ] 

First Peasant. It was our guest's, 
The stranger pilgrim, who hath sojourned here 
Since yestermorn. Good neighbors, mark him well : 
He hath a stately bearing, and an eye 
Whose glance looks through the heart. His mien accords 
111 with such vestments. How he folds round him 
His pilgrim cloak, e'en as it were a robe 
Of knightly ermine ! That commanding step 
Should have been used in courts and camps to move. 
Mark him ! 

Second Peasant. Nay, rather, mark him not: the times 
Are fearful, and they teach the boldest hearts 
A cautious lesson. What should bring him here % 

First Peasant. He spoke of vengeance ! 

Second Peasant. Peace ! we are beset 
By snares on every side ; and we must learn 
In silence and in patience to endure. 
Talk not of vengeance ; for the word is death. 

Procida. [Coming forward indignantly.] The word is 
death ! And what hath life for thee, 
That thou shouldst cling to it thus ] thou abject thing ! 
Whose very soul is moulded to the yoke, 
And stamped with servitude. What ! is it life, 
Thus at a breeze to start, to school thy voice 
Into low fearful whispers, and to cast 
Pale jealous looks around thee, lest e'en then, 
Strangers should catch its echo 1 — Is there aught 
In this so precious, that thy furrowed cheek 
Is blanched with terror at the passing thought 
Of hazarding some few and evil days, 
Which drag thus poorly on 1 

Peasants. Away, away! 
Leave us; for there is danger in thy presence. 

Procida. Why, what is danger % — Are there deeper ills 
Than those ye bear thus calmly] Ye have drained 
The cup of bitterness, till naught remains 
To fear or shrink from — therefore, be ye strong ! 



254 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Power dwelleth with despair. — Why start ye thus 
At words which are but echoes of the thoughts 
Locked in your secret souls 1 — Full well I know, 
There is not one among you, but hath nursed 
Some proud indignant feeling, which doth make 
One conflict of his life. I know thy wrongs, 
And thine — and thine ; — but if within your breasts 
There is no chord that vibrates to my voice, 
Then fare ye well ! 

First Peasant. [ Coming forward.] No, no ! say on, say 
There are still free and fiery hearts e'en here, [on ! 

That kindle at thy words. 

Second Peasant. If that indeed 
Thou hast a hope to give us. 

Procida. There is hope 
For all who suffer with indignant thoughts 
Which work in silent strength. What! think ye Heaven 
O'erlooks th' opposer, if he bear awhile 
His crested head on high ? — I tell you, no ! 
Th' avenger will not sleep. — It was an hour 
Of triumph to the conqueror, when our king, 
Our young brave Conradin, in life's fair morn, 
On the red scaffold died. Yet not the less 
Is Justice throned above ; and her good time 
Comes rushing on in storms : that royal blood 
Hath lifted an accusing voice from earth, 
And hath been heard. The traces of the past 
Fade in man's heart, but ne'er doth Heaven forget. 

First Peasant. Had we but arms and leaders, we are men 
Who might earn vengeance yet ; but wanting these, 
What wouldst thou have us do % 

Procida. Be vigilant ! 
And when the signal wakes the land, arise ! 
The peasant's arm is strong ; and there shall be 
A rich and noble harvest. Fare ye well ! 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 255 

Exercise CXII. 

Successful Attempt to Raise the Wind. — Dickens. 

Dialogue adapted from Martin Chuzzlewit. 
Speakers. — Tigg ;* Martin Chuzzlewit and Tom Pinch, 
apprentices to Pecksniff, the architect ; and Mark Tap- 
lei/, waiter, fyc, at the Blue Dragon. 

Scene.— Mr. PecksnifFs Office : — Martin and Torn, seated at a table ; the 
former drawing, the latter writing accounts. 

Tigg. [peeping at the young men in silence, and un- 
observed by them, for some time before speaking ,] I am not 
industrious myself, gents both ; but I know how to ap- 
preciate that quality in others. I wish I may turn gray 
and ugly, if it isn't, in my opinion, next to genius, one of 
the very charmingest qualities of the human mind. Upon 
my soul I am grateful to my friend Pecksniff for helping 
me to the contemplation of such a delicious picture as 
you present. You remind me of Whittington, afterward 
thrice lord-mayor of London. I give you my unsullied 
word of honor, that you very strongly remind me of that 
historical character. You are a pair of Whittingtons, 
gents, without a cat; which is a most agreeable and bless- 
ed exception to me ; for I am not attached to the feline 
species. My name is Tigg : how do you do 1 

You know Chevy Slyme % [bowing low, and kissing his 
hand to Martin.] You will understand me, when I say 
that I am the accredited agent of Chevy Slyme, — that I 
am the ambassador from the court of Chiv. Ha ! ha ! 

Martin. Heyday ! What does he want of me 1 

Tigg. If your name is Pinch — 

Martin. It is not : — that is Mr. Pinch. 

Tigg. If that is Mr. Pinch, [kissing his hand to Torn,] 
he will permit me to say that I greatly esteem and respect 
his character, which has been most highly commended to 
me by my friend Pecksniff. If that is Mr. Pinch, I will 
venture to express a hope that I see him well, and that he 
is suffering no inconvenience from the easterly wind. 

Tom. Thank you, — I am very well. 

Tigg. That is a comfort, f Whispering in Tom's ear, 
but quite loudly ,] I am come for the letter. 

Tom. For the letter ! What letter % 

* Tigg is, in appearance, a dilapidated dandy, with a profusion of whis- 
ker and moustache. 



256 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Tigg. The letter which my friend Pecksniff addressed 
to Chevy Slyme, Esquire, and left with you. 

Tom. He did not leave any letter with me. 

Tigg. Hush ! It's all the same thing, — though not so 
delicately done by my friend Pecksniff as I could have 
wished, — the money. [Nods.] 

Tom. The money ! 

Tigg. Exactly so. [Holding out his hand, and working 
his finger ■#.] 

Tom. There must be some mistake. I had no such 
commission whatever. 

Tigg. Have the goodness to make that statement again. 

Tom. I had no such commission, I assure you. 

Tigg. [Drawing a chair, and sitting down.] Then, I 
tell you what it is, gents, both. There is, at this present 
moment, in this very place, a perfect constellation of talent 
and genius, who is involved, through what I cannot but 
designate as the culpable negligence of my friend Peck- 
sniff, in a situation as tremendous, perhaps, as the social 
intercourse of the nineteenth century will readily admit 
of. There is actually at this instant, at the Blue Dragon, 
in this village, — an alehouse, observe, — a common, paltry, 
low-minded, clodhopping, pipe-smoking alehouse, — an in- 
dividual, of whom it may be said, in the language of the 
poet, that nobody but himself can in any way come up to 
him, — who is detained there for his bill. Ha ! ha ! for 
his bill ! — I repeat it, — for his bill. 

Now we have read of Fox's Book of Martyrs, I believe ; 
and we have heard of the Court of Requests, and the Star 
Chamber. But I fear the contradiction of no man, alive 
or dead, when I assert that my friend Chevy Slyme being 
held in pawn for a bill, beats any amount of cock-fighting 
with which I am acquainted. 

Don't mistake me, gents both. If it had been for any 
thing but a bill, I could have borne it, and could still have 
looked upon mankind with some feeling of respect. But 
when such a man as my friend Slyme is detained for a 
score, — a thing in itself essentially mean, — a low perform- 
ance on a slate, or possibly chalked upon the back of a 
door, — I do feel that there is a screw of such magnitude 
loose somewhere, that the whole framework of society is 
shaken, and the very first principles of things can no longer 
be trusted. In short, gents both, when a man like Slyme 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 257 

is detained for such a thing as a bill, I reject the super- 
stitions of ages, and believe nothing. I don't even believe 
that I don't believe. 

Tom. I am very sorry, I am sure. But Mr. Pecksniff 
said nothing to me about it ; and I could not act without 
his instructions. Wouldn't it be better, sir, if you were 
to go to, — to wherever you came from, — yourself, and re- 
mit the money to your friend 1 

Tigg. How can that be done, when I am detained, also; 
and when, moreover, owing to the astounding, and, I must 
add, guilty negligence of my friend Pecksniff, I have no 
money for coach-hire % 

Come here, [pointing out,] you see a fellow down there, 
in a red waistcoat and no neckcloth 1 

Tom, Of course I do. — That's Mark Tapley, of the 
Blue Dragon. 

Tigg. Mark Tapley, is it? Then Mark Tapley had 
not only the great politeness to follow me to this house, 
but is waiting now, to see me home again. And for that 
act of attention, sir, I can tell you that Mark Tapley had 
better, in his infancy, have been fed to suffocation by Mrs. 
Tapley, than preserved to this time. 

Tom. [Calling to Mark Tapley.] Come up, Mark! 
[Mark enters.] What's the matter between Mrs. Lupin 
and this gentleman 1 

Mark. What gentleman, sir 1 I don't see no gentle- 
man here, sir, excepting you and the new gentleman, 
[bowing awkwardly to Martin;] and there's nothing wrong 
between Mrs. Lupin and either of you, Mr. Pinch, I'm 
sure. 

Tom. Nonsense, Mark! — You see Mr. — 

Tigg. Tigg. Wait a bit. I shall crush him soon. All 
in good time. 

Mark. Oh ! him ! — Yes, I see him. I could see him a 
little better if he'd shave himself, and get his hair cut. 
[ Tigg shakes his head indignantly, and strikes his chest.] 
It's no use. If you knock ever so much in that quarter, 
you'll get no answer. I know better. There's nothing 
there but padding ; and a greasy sort it is. 

Tom. Nay, Mark, tell me what I ask you. You're not 
out of temper, I hope ] 

Mark. [Laughing.] Out of temper, sir ! — why, no, sir. 
There's a little credit, — not much, — in being jolly, when 



258 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

such fellows as him is agoing about like roaring lions: 
if there is any breed of lions, at least, as is all roar and 
mane. — What is there between him and Mrs. Lupin, sir \ 
"Why, there's a score between him and Mrs. Lupin. And 
I think Mrs. Lupin lets him and his friend off very easy, 
in not charging 'em double price for being a disgrace to 
the Dragon. That's my opinion. I would not have any 
such Peter the Wild Boy as him in my house, sir, not if 
I was paid race-week prices for it. He's enough to turn 
the very beer in the casks sour with his looks : he is : so 
he would, if it had judgment enough. 

Tom. You're not answering my question, you know, 
Mark. 

Mark. Well, sir, I don't know as there's much to an- 
swer, farther than that. Him and his friend goes and 
stops at the Moon and Stars, till they've run a bill there ; 
and then comes and stops with us, and does the same. 
The running of bills is common enough, Mr. Pinch. It 
isn't that we object to : it's the ways of this chap. Noth- 
ing's good enough for him : all the women is dying for 
him, he thinks, and is overpaid if he winks at 'em ; and 
all the men was made to be ordered about by him. This 
not being aggravation enough, he says this morning to me, 
in his usual captivating way, " We're going to-night, my 
man." — "Are you, sir?" says I. "Perhaps you'd like 
the bill got ready, sir]" "Oh ! no, my man," says he : 
" you needn't mind that: I'll give Pecksniff orders' to see 
to that." — In reply to which the Dragon makes answer, 
" Thankee, sir ; you're very kind to honor us so far. But 
as we don't know any particular good of you, and you 
don't travel with luggage, and Mr. Pecksniff ain't at home, 
(which, perhaps, you mayn't happen to be aware of, sir,) 
we should prefer something more satisfactory;" — and 
that's where the matter stands. And I ask any lady or 
gentleman, possessing ordinary strength of mind, to say 
whether he's a disagreeable-looking chap or not. 

Martin. [Interrupting Tigg, who is going to burst out 
upon Mark^\ Let me inquire what the amount of this debt 
may be 1 

Mark. In point of money, sir, very little. Only just 
turned of three pounds. But it isn't that : it's the — 

Martin. Yes, yes ; you told us so before, — Pinch, — a 
word with you. 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 259 

Tom. What is it?- [Drawing close to Martin, who re- 
tires to a corner :] 

Martin. Why, simply, — I am ashamed to say, — that 
this Mr. Slyme is a relation of mine, of whom I never 
heard any thing pleasant; and that I don't want him here, 
just now, and think he would be cheaply got rid of, per- 
haps, for three or four pounds. You haven't enough 
money to pay this bill, I suppose ? [ Tom shakes his 7ieacL] 
That's unfortunate, for I am poor, too ; and in case you'd 
had it, I'd have borrowed it of you. But if we told this 
landlady we would see her paid, I suppose that would 
answer the same purpose. 

Tom. Oh ! dear, yes. She knows me. 

Martin. Then let us go down at once, and tell her so ; 
for the sooner we are rid of their company the better. As 
you have conducted the conversation with this gentleman, 
hitherto, perhaps you'll tell him what we purpose doing ; 
will you ? 

Tom. Certainly. — Mark, we'll satisfy Mrs. Lupin about 
this account. [Mark nods and retires.] 

Tigg. [Seizing Tom by both hands, and, shaking them 
long and warmly '.] I assure you, sir, that my faith in any 
thing and every thing is again restored. It is not so much 
for the temporary relief of this assistance that I prize it, 
as for its vindication of the high principle, that Nature's 
nobs feel with Nature's nobs ; and that true greatness of 
soul sympathizes with true greatness of soul, all the world 
over. It proves to me that, like me, you admire genius, 
even when it is coupled with the alloy occasionally visible 
in the metal of my friend Slyme ; and, on behalf of that 
friend, I thank you, as warmly and heartily as if the cause 
were my own. 



Exercise CXIII. 

The Alehouse Orator. — Anon. 

Scene. — An Alehouse. — Mr. Rogers, Grocei*, Broker, &c. 

Mr. R. [entering, followed by the rest.] I tell you it is so. 

Grocer. Very extraordinary ! 

Mr. R. Not at all extraordinary, not at all. Why is it 
extraordinary? Why should it be extraordinary? Prove 
it to be extraordinary. 



260 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 

Grocer. Oh ! if you come to that, — 

Mr. R. Come to that ! but we must come to that. We 
stand, in these times, upon a calm elevation of intellectual 
attainment, and not in the dark recesses of mental dep- 
rivation. Proof is what I require ; proof, and not asser- 
tions, in these stirring times. Every gen'lem'n that knows 
me, knows what was the nature and effect of my observa- 
tions, when it was in the contemplation of the Old Street 
Suburban Representative Discovery Society, to recom- 
mend a candidate for that place in Cornwall — I forget the 
name of it. "Mr. Snobee," said Mr. Wilson, " is a fit and 
proper person to represent the borough in Parliament." 
"Prove it," says I. "He is a friend to reform," says 
Mr. Wilson. " Prove it," says I. " The abolitionist of 
the national debt — the unflinching opponent of pensions — 
the uncompromising advocate of the negro — the reducer 
of sinecures, and of the duration of Parliament — the ex- 
tender of nothing but the suffrages of the people;" says 
Mr. Wilson. " Prove it," says I. " His acts prove it," 
says he. " Prove them," says I. And he could not 
prove them ; and the borough didn't have him ; and if 
you carried this principle to the full extent, you'd have no 
debt, no pensions, no sinecures, no negroes, no nothing. 
And then, standing upon an elevation of intellectual at- 
tainment, and having reached the summit of popular 
prosperity, you might bid defiance to the nations of the 
earth, and erect yourselves into the proud confidence of 
wisdom and superiority. This is my argument ; and if I 
was a member of the House of Commons to-morrow, I'd 
make them shake in their shoes with it. 

Grocer. Well, I always do say, that of all the gentle- 
men I have the pleasure of meeting in this room, there is 
not one whose conversation I like to hear so much as Mr. 
Rogers's, or is such improving company. 

Mr. R. Improving company ! you may well say I'm 
improving company ; for I've improved you all to some 
purpose ; though, as to my conversation being, as my 
friend, Mr. Ellis, here, describes it, that is not for me 
to say any thing about. You, gentlemen, are the best 
judges upon that point. But this I will say, when I first 
came into this parish, and first used this room, ten years 
ago, I don't believe there was one man in it who knew 
he was a slave, and now you all know it, and writhe 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 261 

under it. Inscribe that upon my tomb, and I'm sat- 
isfied. 

Grocer. Why, as to inscribing it on your tomb, of 
course, you can have any thing chalked up as you like to 
pay for; so far as relates to yourself, and your affairs ; but 
when you come to talk about slaves, and that there gam- 
mon, you'd better keep in the family: 'cos I, for one, don't 
like to be called them names night after night. 

Mr. R. You are a slave, and the most pitiable of all 
slaves. 

Grocer. Very hard if lam ; for I got no good out of the 
twenty millions that was paid for 'mancipation, anyhow. 

Mr. R. A willing slave ; resigning the dearest birth- 
rights of your children ; neglecting the sacred call of Lib- 
erty, who stands imploringly before you, appeals to the 
warmest feelings of your heart, and points to your help- 
less infants, — but in vain. 

Grocer. Prove it ! 

Mr. R. Prove it ! What ! bending beneath the yoke 
of an insolent and factious oligarchy ; bowed down by 
cruel laws ; groaning beneath tyranny and oppression on 
every hand, on every side, and in every corner ! " Prove 
it!" 

Broker. Ah ! to be sure, Mr. Rogers ; ah ! to be sure ; 
that's the point ! 

All. Of course, of course ! 

Broker. You had better let him alone, Tommy ; he can 
tell what's o'clock, by an eight-day, without looking at the 
minute hand, he can. Try it on some other suit ; it won't 
do with him, Tommy. 

Mr. R. What's a man? What's an Englishman? Is 
he to be trampled upon by every oppressor? Is he to be 
knocked down at every body's bidding ? — What's free- 
dom ? Not a standing army. — What's a standing army ? 
Not freedom. — What's general happiness ? Not universal 
misery. — Liberty ain't the window tax, is it? — The lords 
ain't the people, are they ? Answer me that. Prove that ! 
But I scorn to throw away my words on a set of men who 
are willing to be the victims of an aristocratical, tyranni- 
cal, usurping, overbearing — [Exit Mr. R. 

All but Grocer. Wonderful man ! Splendid speaker ! 

All as before. Great power ! 

Gro. Ay ! But he didn't u prove it," though, for all that. 



262 JUVENILE SPEAKER. 



Exercise CXIV. 
"Excelsior."* — Longfellow. 
The shades of night were falling fast, 
As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth, who bore, mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 
" Excelsior!" 

His brow was sad ; his eye, beneath, 
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath ; 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue, 
"Excelsior !" 

In happy homes he saw the light 
Of household fires gleam warm and bright : 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone ; 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
" Excelsior !" 

"Try not the pass !" the old man said, 
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead; 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide \" 
And loud that clarion voice replied, 
"Excelsior!" 

" Oh ! stay," the maiden said, " and rest 
Thy weary head upon this breast !" — 
A tear stood in his bright blue eye ; 
But still he answered, with a sigh, 
"Excelsior!" 

" Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
Beware the awful avalanche !" 
This was the peasant's last good-night; — 
A voice replied, far up the height, 
"Excelsior!" 

At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of Saint Bernard 
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried through the startled air, 
"Excelsior!" 

* Higher! 



PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 263 



A traveller, — by the faithful hound, 
Half buried in the snow was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice 
That banner with the strange device, 
"Excelsior!" 

There, in the twilight cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay ; 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, — 
" Excelsior !" 



THE END. 



toaluctble Nero flttbluatioits, 

ADAPTED FOR USE IN 

COLLEGES AND DISTRICT SCHOOLS, 

RECENTLY PUBLISHED BY 

HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 



"AA///////^ 



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is nothing like it in the whole range of elementary school-books. — Commercial Adv. 

Parser's ®feocjra|)Jitcal <&ttestfous, 

Adapted for the Use of Morse's, Woodbridge's, Worcester's, Mitch- 
ell's, Field's, Malte Bran's, Smith's, Olney's, Goodrich's, or any 
other respectable Collection of Maps : embracing, by way of 
Question and Answer, such Portions of the Elements of Geogra- 
phy as are necessary as an Introduction to the Study of the Maps. 
To which is added, a concise Description of the Terrestrial Globe. 
12mo, Muslin. 25 cents. 

These Questions embrace none of the tedious and uninteresting details of geogra- 
phy. They are designed to simplify the study of this important science, by means 
of the useful and important process of classification. There are few questions among 
them that can not be answered from any respectable atlas ; and the author trusts that 
they will prove useful and convenient on this account, as they may be used without 
subjecting a class of pupils to the expense frequently attendant on a required uniform- 
ity of maps. These Questions are already used in some of the leading schools in 
New England. 



10 WORKS FOR COLLEGES AND DISTRICT SCHOOLS. 

Scfunucfcer's JPsgdioloflg; 

Or, Elements of a new System of Mental Philosophy, on the Basis 
of Consciousness and Common Sense. Designed for Colleges 
and Academies. 12mo, Muslin. $1 00. 

This production, the fruit of some 20 years' scholastic experience, avowedly owos 
its existence to the desire of the author to promote the cause of truth and science. 
It exhibits in a lucid manner the analysis of mental philosophy as the basis of meta- 
physical science and religious belief. « 

SaifeelTr's (Somptnttium of 3&oman atrtr <j£re= 
ctau ®ntiquitit8, 

Including a Sketch of Ancient Mythology. "With Maps, &c. 12mo, 
Muslin. 37£ cents. 

Most of the works in use which treat of the antiquities of Greece and Rome are 
so copious and so intermingled with Greek or Latin quotations, that, though they may 
be highly valuable to the classical scholar as works of reference, they are rendered 
less useful to the classical pupil as common text-books. On this account, the study 
of classical antiquities has been mostly confined to the higher classes. The present 
volume is designed for general use in our common schools, but it is believed to be so 
comprehensive and elevated in its character, as to be acceptable in academies and 
high schools as well as private use. 

SalftettTs JFtrst Booft in Spamslt; 

Or, a Practical Introduction to the Study of the Spanish Language. 
Adapted to every Class of Learners, containing full Instructions 
in Pronunciation ; a Grammar ; Reading Lessons and a "Vocabu- 
lary. (In press.) 

I have never met with a work professing to teach any foreign language which com- 
bines so many excellent qualities, and is so well adapted for all classes of learners. 
It is the precise manner in which I have been giving instruction to classes of pupils 
in English, French, and Spanish for many years in the cities of Paris, London, and 
Madrid, teaching what is most important to know. — Don Julio Cibilo DE Molina, 
Professor of Languages in the Cities of Madrid, Paris, and London. 

aJostr^ Elements of 2&iietortc an* afterarg 
(Erfttcfssm, 

With copious Practical Exercises and Examples. Including, also, 
a Succinct History of the English Language, and of British and 
American Literature, from the earliest to the present Times. 
On the Basis of the recent Works of Alexander Reid and Robert 
Connell ; with large Additions from other Sources. Compiled 
and arranged by J. R. Boyd, A.M. 12mo, half Bound. 50 cents. 

It is very happily adapted to aid teachers in training the minds of the young to act 
with clearness, and to-give a perspicuous and elegant expression to their thoughts in 
written language. — Philadelphia Christian Observer. 

My decided conviction of its merits prompts me to recommend it to the examination 
of teachers, parents, and all who feel an interest in promoting the noble and blessed 
career of popular education.— S. N. Sweet, Author of " Elocution." 

Bogtr's 25clecttc iHoral Jifitlosojrftg- 

Prepared for Literary Institutions and General Use. 12mo, Muslin 
gilt. 75 cents. 

The book before us is exceedingly valuable, both for private use and academies and 
high schools generally. Though not so able a work as Wayland's " Moral Science," 
"it exhibits in detail the greater and the lesser moralities of life," and is therefore 
better adapted for union district schools. It can not be studied too much, by youth 
especially.— Western Literary Messenger 



WORKS FOR COLLEGES AND DISTRICT SCHOOLS. 11 

^rouTrft'fs $lautu8'0 "STfie <Eaj)tfte," 

A Comedy of Plautus. With English Notes, for the Use of Stu- 
dents. By John Proudfit, D.D. 18mo, Muslin. 37£ cents. 

Plautus possessed very happy talents for a comic writer, a rich flow of excellent 
wit, happy invention, and all the force of comic expression. — Eschb. 

Motl autr (ttopnaVz Hieto Sgstem ttf JFrtncIi 
©Jramntar, 

Containing the First Part of the celebrated Grammar of these Au- 
thors. Arranged with Questions, and a Key in English. Also, 
an Abridgment of the Syntax and Grammatical Analysis of the 
same Authors. To which are added, Lessons in Reading and 
Speaking, Forms of Drafts, Advertisements, &c. Designed to 
facilitate the Student in the Use of the French Language, 1st. By 
making it a Medium of Communication between himself and 
Teacher. 2d. By enabling him to read, write, and speak it on all 
Occasions. By Sarah E. Seaman. Revised and corrected by 
Professor C. P. Bordenave. 12mo, Muslin. 75 cents. 
The Grammar of Noel and Chapsal is universally considered to be the best, and is 
the one most generally used in our academies. The form of question and answer 
adopted by Mrs. Seaman, with the translated key at the end, are evident improve- 
ments. I do not hesitate to recommend the work. — C. Le Febvre. 

I have so high an opinion of the judgment of M. Le Febvre, that any work which 
meets with his approbation will command mine. — Charles Anthon. 

ffllilVn SLogtc, &attoctuatttoe antt Xtrtrttctfte; 

Being a connected View of the Principles of Evidence and Methods 
of Scientific Investigation. 8vo, Muslin. $2 00. 

A' production, we predict, which will distinguish the age ; which no scholar should 
be without ; but which, above all, should be the manual of every lawyer. The style 
is, in our judgment, a model ; in thought as in method, clear as crystal ; in expres- 
sion, precise as the symbolical language of algebra. — Democratic Review. 

J&aurg's J^rtnctplrs ot SSioqtteuce* 

With an Introduction, by the Rev. Dr. Potter. 18mo, Muslin. 
45 cents. 

This manual is decidedly the best which has yet appeared, upon the subject, and is, 
as it were, an excellent emblem of the oratory on which it chiefly dwells : admirable 
in its arrangement, full of good sense in much of its detail, with a felicitous and ju- 
dicious application of the principles of Cicero and Quintilian to his subject. — Quar- 
terly Review. 

f^acfeieg's &reatfoe on ^Igefira, 

Containing the latest Improvements. 8vo, Sheep. $1 50. 

I regard it as a very valuable accession to mathematical science. I find it remark- 
ably full and complete. — E. S. Snell, Professor of Mathematics, Amherst College, 
Massachusetts. 

I deem it a work of great value to the mathematical student, and better suited to 
the wants of private learners, and all others who wish to obtain a thorough knowl- 
edge of the science, than any other work with which I am acquainted. — Elijah A. 
Smith, Corresponding Secretary of Queen's County Common School Association. 

I have examined your work, and am highly pleased with it. Yonr management of 
the roots is admirable, as also of many other topics which I might mention. — N. T. 
Clarke, Canandaigua, New York. 



A new Classified and Descriptive Catalogue of Harper & 
Brothers' Publications has just been issued, comprising a very- 
extensive range of Literature, in its several Departments of His- 
tory, Biography, Philosophy, Travel, Science and Art, the Clas- 
sics, Fiction, &c. ; also, many splendidly Embellished Produc- 
tions. The selection of works includes not only a large propor- 
tion of the most esteemed Literary Productions of our times, 
but also, in the majority of instances, the best existing authori- 
ties on given subjects. This new Catalogue has been construct- 
ed with a view to the especial use of persons forming or enrich- 
ing their Literary Collections, as well as to aid Principals of 
District Schools and Seminaries of Learning, who may not pos- 
sess any reliable means of forming a true estimate of any pro- 
duction ; to all such it commends itself by its explanatory and 
critical notices. The valuable collection described in this Cata- 
logue, consisting of about two thousand volumes, combines the 
two-fold advantages of great economy in price with neatness — 
often elegance of typographical execution, in many instances the 
rates of publication being scarcely one fifth of those of similar 
issues in Europe. 

%* Copies of this Catalogue may be obtained, free of ex- 
pense, by application to the Publishers personally, or by letter, 
post-paid. 

To prevent disappointment, it is requested that, whenever 
books ordered through any bookseller or local agent can not be 
obtained, applications with remittance be addressed direct to the 
Publishers, which will be promptly attended to. 

New York, January, 1847. 



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